Silver Talons
by Grimjawa
Summary: Ten years before the return of the dragons, two mercenaries from the Silver Sparrow company, one a rookie and the other an experienced veteran, are tasked with escorting a wealthy merchant's daughter to the Imperial City. A rudimentary job on the surface quickly turns to something much more complex and deadly.
1. A Job Like Any Other

The old battle-axe hanging from the wall of Warren's office always brought a feeling of nostalgia when the Nord looked upon it. The steel weapon was worn and the blade was visibly dull now, but when he wielded it in his youth, it was a force to be reckoned with. Now it probably wouldn't even break a person's skin, but twenty years ago, it'd brought down some of the most vicious beasts and mightiest warriors that Cyrodill had to offer.

He quickly put a end to the reminiscing and turned his eyes back to the letter that sat on his desk. Warren Black-Heart was one of the heads of the Silver Sparrow mercenary company's Cyrodillian branch. He was tall, even for a Nord, with jet black hair and silver eyes. A thick beard covered his lower face. A number of scars were visible on his neck, disappearing below the collar of his shirt, reminders of the mistakes he'd made, Warren would tell people.

The door to his office creaked open and a Dumner, Sindell Dren, one of Warren's best mercenaries, entered wearing a set of green robes with heavy steel armor over the torso. The elf's hair was long and dyed blonde, almost white and fell to just below his shoulders. His skin was bluish-grey and had a pair of crimson eyes. A freshly repaired ebony mace was looped to his hip, gleaming in the light that poured in through the window.

"You've got a job for me?" the elf asked, a thick Morrowind accent lacing his words.

"A messenger dropped off the request just yesterday, and all the others are on assignment at the moment," Warren said. He eased back in his chair and entangled his fingers together. "I know you just returned from a job, but it's one of our best-paying customers and I'd like the Sparrows to stay on his good side."

"Who's hiring us?"

"Varris Addevicci."

"The merchant I contracted with a few months ago. What does he need now?"

"His daughter is delivering a shipment of ore to Imperial City. You are to escort her there and back. It'll pay five thousand Septims."

"Where do I meet the girl?"

Warren handed the official orders and letter of request to Sindell and said, "Kvatch. Outside the temple."

Sindell nodded and turned to leave, but Warren stood and put a hand on his shoulder. "Wait. I've been thinking and I don't like how this job sounds. It's too much gold for a simple escort of cargo and person."

Sindell agreed; five thousand was an irregularly large sum for an escort. "You think Varris isn't telling us something?" Sindell asked, reading through the letter briefly.

"I don't know, so just in case, I'm sending someone along with you."

Sindell didn't really care who tagged along, as long as they weren't a liability. "Who?"

Warren's son, Ansen, walked into the room, wearing his family's black leather armor, custom made by a close friend of Warren. Ansen was the man's youngest child, and the newest member of the Sparrows. He had very little experience with actual combat, but was trained better than most of the guards in the Imperial City.

Ansen was shorter than his father, sharing his black hair, but had a tan complexion more akin to his Imperial mother than the pale skin of his father's family. He had jade colored eyes, another feature he'd gotten from his mother, and a small horizontal scar decorated his right cheek. A bow hung from his shoulder by its twine and an iron sword was sheathed by the baldric strapped to his torso.

"You'll be taking my son, Ansen," said Warren.

Sindell looked the young man over for a moment, like he was measuring him up. He turned without a word a left the Silver Sparrows headquarters, the Nest.

"What's his problem?" Ansen asked his father.

"He's not the social type."

* * *

The two steeds trotted down the dirt road, side-by-side. The early fall weather was a nice change from the summer heat that'd been the normal for the last few months. The opening of the Oblivion gates seemed to have changed the climate of Tamriel for a time. It'd been nearly two hundred years, yet this was the first time that Cyrodill had a summer without strange temperature drops.

Ansen glanced over at Sindell. They'd been riding for about an hour and the elf hadn't spoken a word. "My father says you've worked for this merchant before?"

"I have. His jobs usually revolve around the shipments that he sends all over Cyrodill," Sindell said. "They're never difficult."

"So, why am I here? I'm sure a veteran like yourself could handle this alone."

"Better safe than sorry, as they say."

Ansen watched Sindell. The man was well-known in their organization, having never failed a single mission he accepted. Sindell might not have looked very intimidating on the surface, with his pristine robes and blonde hair, but he was one of the toughest known mercenaries in the province.

"You got any family around here?" Ansen asked.

"No. All my family is far west in Morrowind."

"The only family I have here is my father and mother. There's also my sister and cousin, but they've been in Skyrim for months on a job. Are you and your family close?"

"No. We aren't."

"You don't talk much, do you?"

The duo dismounted and entered through Kvatch's giant wood gates. It was late afternoon as they came into the hold, so the shops were preparing to close for the day. The guards were watchful of Ansen and Sindell, that is, until they noticed the bird that was sewn into the chests of their armors. Most hold guards knew not to mess with the Silver Sparrows.

"Go meet the girl at the temple," Sindell said, "I'll wait here."

"Any idea what she looks like?"

"No clue. All I know is that her name is Mara."

"Great…" Ansen said, walking in search of the temple

Sindell decided to go and gather a few herbs for their trip, something he could whip up a poison antidote with, maybe. He made his way over to the alchemist stand and began looking over the leaves and roots they had on display.

"Excuse me, can you point me in the direction of the temple?" Ansen asked one of the guards.

The uniformed man pointed down the street and said, "Go that way and make a left. You shouldn't be able to miss it."

Following the man's direction's, Ansen sooon found the newly built temple in the center of town. Outside the doors of the chapel stood a young lady, short red hair atop her head and violet eyes the color of amethyst gems watching the people of Kvatch go about their daily business. She wore a fancy red blouse and dark brown leather pants, definitely looking the part of a rich merchant's child.

The woman noticed Ansen staring at her from a couple of feet away and shot him an angry look in return. "Turn your eyes elsewhere if you don't have anything to say," she told him.

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Mara Addevicci, would it?" he asked.

"… It would …"

Ansen approached her and said, "My name is Ansen Black-Heart, and I'm one of the men that'll be accompanying you on your little trip."

She looked at him with a disbelieving grin and chuckled, apparently finding something about the young man funny. "You're kidding, right? You're supposed to protect me? I was kinda' expecting a hardened warrior or something…"

"That's the other guy."

The woman sighed. "I suppose the Sparrows wouldn't send you if you didn't know what you were doing."

"Are you anticipating trouble?"

"No. Come on, let's get going. I want to get this over with…"

As Ansen trailed behind the girl, he noticed that they were being followed by a separate pair. Two Imperials were following them, but far away enough where it wasn't too obvious. Ansen just took note of the duo and kept walking with Addevicci.

They came to Sindell at the front gate. He had a small bag full of ingredients he'd picked up in their absence slung over his shoulder. "Well, I found her," Ansen said. "Mara, this is Sindell Dren, the other guy that'll be protecting you."

"Not that I'll need it…" Mara said as she walked through the front gate. "I don't even know why you two are here. I don't require any protection; I can take care of myself."

Ansen watched her climb up onto the carriage that stood outside the hold, led by two mares. He turned to Sindell and said, "I think she was being followed."

Sindell scanned the late afternoon crowd for any sign of someone looking in their direction or showing interest in them, but found no one. "I don't see anyone."

"They were there, trust me."

"So you think that she's actually in danger. We've never had problems escorting Addevicci's people before, except the occasional wolf," said Sindell. "This time may be little different, though… Keep an eye out."

"Yeah."

Mara began to ride off in her carriage without her escort, mumbling to herself. "Someone's impatient…" Ansen said as he ran over and jumped up on his horse. Sindell climbed on his and caught up with her.

"You know, I'm starting to get the slight feeling you don't want us here," Ansen said.

"Very perceptive of you," Mara responded. "My father insists on an escort."

"Cyrodiil is a dangerous place. An escort is usually necessary for a caravan."

"Yes, well, my father's over protectiveness is quickly becoming an annoyance."

Sindell wasn't the least bit interested in what Mara had to say, but cared more about their surroundings. Ansen saying that she was being watched in Kvatch unnerved him. He wondered if someone was holding information back, if Varris Addevicci wasn't telling the entire of story of why he so badly needed experienced protection for his daughter.

For the time being, all Sindell could do is push the thoughts to the back of his mind and stay vigilant. He had a young girl to look after, and frankly, he didn't know if he could rely on Ansen or not to help on this mission. Hopefully, this would just be a simple escort, without any trouble. The chances of that being the case though, were low.

* * *

It was beginning to get dark and traveling at night with Mara was a bad idea, for several different reasons so Sindell decided it would be best to just make camp for the night. While Ansen got a fire going, the Dark Elf sat and read a lightning bolt spell book he had since he was a child. He'd read it dozens of times, but enjoyed going through it every now and again.

Mara was looking through the contents of her carriage, making sure all the crates of ore were present. Once she counted them all, she locked up the carriage tight and strode over to the tent that she had set up for herself. She climbed inside and flopped onto the bed-mat, eyes heavy and her body tired. Mara had been up since the crack of dawn, getting ready for this trip and was thoroughly exhausted. As the quiet night lulled her, Mara let her eyelids shut and soon found herself sleeping.

"Is she asleep?" Ansen asked.

"Yeah."

"You want to take first watch, or should I?"

"I'll take the first shift."

Ansen laid down in the grass and said, "Alright. Wake me in a few hours…"

He was out cold as well. Sindell sat there, continuing to read his book, but keeping his ears up, listening for the slightest unnatural sound. Several hours past and he still sat, reading. Most of his watch had been uneventful, that is until he heard a slight rustle in the brush. It wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary if the wind was blowing or if there were any signs of wildlife around, but neither were present.

Sindell closed his book, laid back and let his eyes close. Five minutes after he did, the two Imperials took the bait and emerged from the bushes. Sindell watched them through half-lided eyes and saw both men wearing normal clothing slowly creep into camp. They looked around briefly, and split up. One of them went toward the carriage and the other to Mara's tent.

Sindell sprung to his feet, concentrating and eveing out the flow of magicka in his body, and snapped his fingers, each of his hands surging with electricity and sparked. The two Imperials jumped at the sudden movement just as Sindell released streams of lighting at each of them. One of the beams hit their mark, killing the man in and instant, while the other missed by a hair.

The surviving man turned and ran toward the woods, pleading that Sindell let him live. The elf grabbed a hold of his mace, spun around on the balls of his feet to gain a little momentum and launched it at the fleeing Imperial. It struck him in the waist, snapping the man's hip like a twig and probably severing his spine.

Ansen got up, his steel dagger drawn, and asked, "What happened?"

"These two snuck into the camp," Sindell exclaimed as he walked over and retrieved his weapon. He glanced back at Mara sitting up with eyes wide, awoken by the sudden disturbance. "Are those the men from before?" Sindell asked Ansen.

"That's them."

"They were just thieves, probably after the ore," Sindell deduced.

"You think so?" Ansen asked.

"Yes."

Sindell looked to Mara and asked, "Are you alright?"

She scowled at him and turned away from him in her tent. "I'm fine."

Sindell thought that maybe, just maybe this job would go off without a hitch now. He chuckled at his own naivety and shook his head.

"How about I take up watch now?" Ansen asked.

Sindell nodded. "Wake me when you see the sunrise…"


	2. The Merchant's Daughter

The position of the sun meant it was probably noon. Ansen's horse walked slowly beside Mara's carriage as they went down the dirt road. They were surrounded on all sides by forest, deer peering at them from behind the brush and birds fluttering overhead.

After the previous night's thief encounter, the level of concern that Sindell had for the mission's success had lessened, but he was still alert, even while reading The Wolf Queen on horseback. Sindell knew that the two Imperials were extremely inexperienced thieves, probably simple pickpockets. They'd probably overheard Mara talking about the ore she'd be carrying and decided to try and steal some of it.

Ansen rode his horse up to the head of the carriage, up alongside Mara. "What kind of ore are you delivering exactly?" he inquired.

"It's ebony ore, rare and expensive," she said.

"Rare enough for someone to want to steal, I guess?"

"In its refined state, yes."

Ansen nodded slowly. "I guess that's why your father hired the Sparrows…"

"I told the two of you that I don't need your protection," she repeated what she'd said before.

"You would've been able to dispatch those two thieves if Sindell wasn't there last night?"

"Maybe, maybe not, but you weren't any help, that's for sure!"

"Sindell didn't need my help last night but I was prepared to give it."

"Yeah, sure…"

"Listen, Ms. Addevicci," Ansnen started, "right now our job is to make sure no harm comes to you, whether you like it or not."

Mara stayed silent. Sindell took his eyes off of his book for a brief moment to look at their surroundings. His eyes went to White Gold Tower visible in the distance. They were nearing Imperial City and would hopefully reach it, if they continued at their current pace, within the next two days.

Mara glanced over at Sindell. "So, uh…" She said, "where are you from?"

"Morrowind." He responded.

"Your last name's Dren, right? You wouldn't happen to be associated with-"

"I'd rather not talk about it." Sindell did not even bother to glance at her; he simply kept his eyes on his book.

"…What are you reading?"

"Look, the imperial city is not that f- wait… what's that?" Sindell pointed ahead of them.

A carriage, much like the one Mara was piloting, lay on its side at the edge of the road before them. Beside it lay a mer and a mare, both very much dead. The carriage appeared to have been ransacked.

"That's not a good sign…" Ansen said.

Sindell stopped at the wreck and dismounted. "It doesn't appear to be a robbery. All this man was carrying was food, and it's still here." Sindell walked over to the dead horse and inspected it to see what kind of damage had been done to it. Upon closer inspection Sindell saw that blood was coming from the horse's mouth, indicating that he had been bleeding internally.

"What on Nirn happened to them?" Mara asked, preparing to step off of her carriage.

"Maybe we should leave before we find out first hand," Ansen suggested, beginnign to grow nervous.

Sindell slowly came to the realization of what could've been behind this attack and cursed himself for not realizing it much sooner. He got ready to get back up on his horse when they heard a low below come from the thick of the woods around them. Sindell looked to where the roar emanated from and saw a huge, grey skinned beast with a distended belly, strolling leisurely through the wood, towards them.

"Up front!" Ansen announced. Sindell looked to where he was pointing and saw another, surprisingly large, Ogre standing in the middle of the road ahead of them, holding a deer's leg in its hand. It had a long jagged, zigzagged scar running down its chest and belly.

Yet another Ogre appeared at their backs, barreling up the road towards them. Ansen noticed the scar on the largest and felt like something was familiar about it. Then he remembered that he'd seen a job listing back at the guild to kill an Ogre with a distinct scar on its chest and its two siblings. Ansen supposed that these were the three Ogres. They'd been ransacking caravans on this road for months. He wished he'd remembered this before they got on the path; he would've suggested another route.

It was too late now to try and run from the trio, since the mercenaries and their charge were surrounded, so Sindell snapped his fingers and his hands ignited, covered in magical flame. He rubbed his flaming hands together, Ansen feeling the heat radiating from the magic fire five feet away. Sindell targeted the Ogre coming from the forest took a defensive stance, planting his left foot forward and putting his body weight on his back leg.

Ansen grabbed hold of the hunting bow he carved himself, snatched an arrow from the quiver that was strapped to his horse's saddle and strung it. The arrow flew from the bow and impaled the leader of the trio in the abdomen. The creature just ignored the nuisance and continued to eat the deer leg.

Sindell waited until the Ogre approaching from the forest got close enough, and released a wave of fire from each hand onto it. The creature roared and swung at him with one of its giant fists. The Dunmer ceased his magic assault, jumped over the attack and hurled a ball of fire into the Ogre's face, burning its eyes out.

Ansen released another arrow at the lead creature that struck its shoulder. Again it shrugged the attack off and continued to gorge itself.

"Behind you!" Mara shouted from her place on the carriage.

The half-Imperial half-Nord swiveled his head around to see the third Ogre, which he'd forgotten about, directly behind him. It grabbed Ansen's horse and picked it up with ease. He fell from the steed to the dirt and watched as the Ogre slammed the horse to the ground a half-dozen times.

Thinking quickly, Ansen drew his iron sword, and while the Ogre was preoccupied with pummeling the horse, drove the blade upward, though its mouth and skull. Ansen looked to his right and saw that Sindell had just finished off his Ogre, the creature's body a charred black.

The final Ogre was slowly coming up on Sindell's flank so Ansen moved to intercept it. He pounced on it and dug his sword into its back, twisting the blade right and left. The Ogre reached back, grabbed Ansen by the arm and pulled him off of its body. It started to squeeze his arm, with definite intention to break it, but before it snapped, Sindell unleashed a frost spell into its face.

When the monster dropped Ansen, Sindell took a step back, and concentrated his magicka. Once it was at its peak, he cocked his arm back and punched the Ogre's chest. Electricity snaked through its body, destroying every vital organ within until the Ogre was left a lifeless corpse.

As it collapsed to the dirt, Ansen rose, holding his left arm. He was glad that it wasn't hurt too badly, just a little sore. Mara wore a stunned expression on her face as Ansen and Sindell walked back over to her. She stepped down off of her carriage, glanced over at the dead traveler and his wrecked carriage and realized just how dead she would've been if these two mercenaries were not with her.

Mara walked up to the body of one of the Ogres, trying to get a closer look at it. She was so intrigued by the creature that she didn't even notice the stomping of hooves in the distance drawing near. Sindell looked down the road at the rider whose horse was sprinting right towards them.

"Mara, get over here!" Sindell commanded.

"Huh?"

The rider didn't even stop as it ran by them, snatching Mara up in the process.

"N'wah!" Sindell swore.

He and Ansen climbed up onto Mara's carriage and began to give chase. Sindell knew that something was going to go wrong on this job sooner or later. It was only a matter of time…

* * *

Mara's kidnapper carried her underneath his arm as his horse raced down the road. The Khajiit could clearly hear the wheels of the carriage behind him booming like thunder. The girl's protector's were right on his tail. He only had a little farther to go, though.

Sindell snapped the reins of the two horses pulling the carriage yet again, to no avail. They were already going as fast as they possibly could and still couldn't catch up with the Khajiit, no doubt because of the large, ore filled carriage they were leading. Sindell couldn't believe he didn't react quickly enough and let Mara get taken.

Ansen readied his bow and said, "I'm gonna' take him out."

"You think you can do it without hitting Mara?" Sindell asked.

"Maybe..." he shrugged.

The Khajiit turned halfway around on his horse, released its reins briefly and hurled a weak fire spell at them. Sindell shot the ball out of the air with a frost spell and grit his teeth. "He's stalling," Ansen said.

"Exactly what I was thinking..." Sindell said.

four strangers on mounts appeared from the forest and two rode up to either side of the carriage. "I guess they were waiting for us," Sindell said. he turned to Ansen and said, "Take the reins."

The young merc obeyed and took the leather from his Dunmer companion. As soon as the reins were out of his hands, Sindell grabbed his mace, and jumped from the carriage. He knocked one of the two riders off of his horse and landed gracefully on the steed's saddle. One of the other three, a Redguard woman, came to ride beside Sindell and drew her sword. The Elf blocked the woman's swing with the armor on his left forearm and deflected the attack. He ducked, hugging his horses back as the woman ran right into a low hanging brach that whipped her off of her mount. She fell from her horse and landed right on her neck. Two down, three to go.

"Ba'l, take the girl to the drop off point!" one of the kidnappers shouted to the Khajiit that held Mara. "We'll hold these two back!"

"You can try!" Ansen replied as if they had been addressing him. He unsheathed his knife and looked over to his right, where the other two strangers were. The dagger soared through the air, cutting right through the throat of one of them and spilling blood all over the road as he toppled.

Sindell took that as his cue to get Mara back. He snapped the reins of the horse he rode and caught up to the Khajiit. Hefting his mace, he swung at the back of the man's head as he came upon him. Ba'l saw it coming, ducked the attack and growled at Sindell. The Dark Elf swung a second time, but Ba'l's quickness saved him yet again and he sped up his horse's sprint, attempting to get away from Sindell.

"Don't run away you damned cat!" Ansen commanded.

He took up his bow, strung an arrow and let it fly. Just as he'd hoped, the arrow flew its coarse and struck the Khajiit in the back. The black furred man-beast whimperd and his grip on Mara lessened. Sindell quickly got to her and caught the woman before she fell from the horse.

"Let's fall back!" the only other remaining attacker said to Ba'l. The duo broke off and lead the steed's into the thick of the forest.

Ansen and Sindell stopped and watched them leave. The Imperial-Nord was fairly satisfied with their temporary victory, but Sindell's mind was burdened. Now there was no doubt in his mind that there was much more to this mission than Varris had told them, and his daughter was right in the middle, it appeared.

"Who were they?" Sindell asked as he let Mara off of the horse.

"I-I don't know! I thought you two knew!" she proclaimed.

"Those five weren't after the ore like the thieves from last night, they were after you," Sindell said.

"Yeah, and they were pretty determined to get a hold of you too," Ansen added. "What'd your father get us into, Mara?"

"My father doesn't tell me everything regarding the business, so it could be that they were hired by a rival merchant or something," she said, shrugging loosely.

"Whoever they were, they were professional," Sindell said.

"What makes you think that?"

"When I was fighting one of them, I noticed a tattoo on her left forearm. It was a hand weilding a broken sword, the symbol of the Copper Company mercenary organization," he explained. "They're The Silver Sparrows' biggest competition right now."

"You think they'll be back for round two?" Ansen asked.

"There's no telling, but it's a possibility." The elf turned to Mara and thought for a moment. "We were lucky today, the mercs that came after us we fairly weak, probably grunts. If they come back, they'll be coming back with some of their best, and that'll be a problem."

"So, we should hurry to the Imperial City, is what you're saying," Ansen said.

Sindell mounted one of the dead mercenary's horses. "Yep."


	3. Water's Edge

Mara stared up at the star-filled sky, rethinking the events of the day. She wondered why she was kidnapped like that. Maybe someone wanted ransom from her father, maybe she wronged someone in her life and didn't remember, or maybe her father did and they were seeking revenge.

She rolled over onto her side, tired of thinking. Mara dipped her fingers in the water of the lake they'd made camp near. Sindell sat on the other side of the camp, roasting the fish he'd caught just a few minutes ago. Ansen threw punches and kicks at an imaginary opponent, dodging and ducking left and right like he was in an actual fist fight.

The lack of conversation was starting to bother Mara, so she decided to say something. She turned to Ansen and said, "You're, uh, kinda' young looking, especially for a mercenary, Ansen. Have you been doing this for long?"

"People have been paying me for mercenary work since I was a kid," Ansen said with a grin. "I remember when I was young the other children would put their allowance together and pay me to take on the neighborhood bully that always pushed them around; those were good times…"

"Really?"

"Yeah, my father heads the Cyrodiilian branch of the organization. My sister's a merc, too," Ansen said.

Mara looked to Sindell and asked, "What about you? How long have you been a mercenary?"

Sindell glanced back at her and paused. "Longer than you've been alive, miss."

"Well, thank you, both of you, for your help earlier today," Mara said.

"You're welcome," Sindell said.

"It was our pleasure," Ansen added. "So, since we're in the talking mood, and you've asked us questions, how about you answer a few?"

Mara sat up and brushed her hair from before her eyes. "That depends on the question."

"What's with that tattoo?" he asked, gesturing toward Mara's chest.

Part of a crimson colored mark was visible on her skin at the edge of her shirt. Mara pulled down the collar of her shirt slightly, revealing the rest of the marking over her left breast. It appeared to be a sun crimson sun with a dark blue crescent in its center.

"Oh, my father told me a priestess gave me this marking when I was an infant, to protect me," she said.

"Did she say why you needed protection?" Sindell asked, taking a sudden interest.

Mara shook her head dismissively and said, "I don't believe in that fortune telling crap…"

"Is the food ready?" Ansen asked Sindell.

"This is _my_ dinner… Yours is over there." Sindell gestured to the woods. Ansen looked in the direction of the woods and glanced back at Sindell, giving him a dirty look. "I'm not your caretaker. It's not my job to baby-sit you, whelp. You have a bow, and arrows, more than enough to feed yourself.

"Fine…" Ansen snatched the bow he had leaning against a tree and went into the woods.

Sindell continued to eat, ignoring Mara who was looking in his direction. "I think you angered him…"

"His mood is none of my concern."

The young rogue skulked around the woods until he spotted a buck. The lean beast sat, sleeping peacefully beside a tree. Ansen took aim and drew his line back, the straining sound drawing the deer's attention, and released a single bolt. It easily pierced the deer's muscled flesh and struck its left lung. The deer squealed in pain and tried to run off, but swiftly died when no breath could enter its body.

Ansen sat his weapon down beside the creature's body and went off to find firewood. Sindell's words had infuriated him, but Ansen was used to being treated like a child. In his life, one of two things seemed to always happen to him in Cyrodiil: too much was expected of him because of his lineage, or he was treated as though he was a mere boy, playing with his wooden sword out in the fields.

Ansen sat at the fire he started, watching the venison cook over the flames. The breaking of a twig underfoot to his left brought his attention from the dancing of the fire. He looked through the darkness, past the trees and saw Mara walking the woodland.

He put his index finger and thumb to his lips and whistled. She turned to the noise and started to walk over to where Ansen was sitting. She looked at the large slab of deer he had cooking and nodded.

"I see you've been busy," she said.

"You shouldn't be wondering around by yourself. There are dangerous creatures out here," he told her.

"You've been gone for a couple hours… I was trying to make sure you weren't dead."

"Sindell just let you leave the camp?"

"I snuck off while he was asleep and I'll go back before he wakes. Why did he treat you like that?"

"He probably thinks I'm a child… I'm used to people discriminating against me, though."

"Really?" Mara asked, taking a seat on the ground.

Ansen turned the steak he was roasting over to the other side of the flames and sat for a moment. "Mara, my father's name is Warren Black-Heart. To my family and me, he's just Warren, but to everyone else in Skyrim and Cyrodiil, he's known as the Black Nightmare; one of the fiercest warriors of all time."

"_Your_ father is the Black Nightmare?"

"Did you know he slew his very first bear when he was twelve? He single handedly brought Jacques "the Butcher", the most renowned serial killer of the past hundred years to the Imperial City guard in shackles at sixteen. By the time he was twenty, my age, he'd already lived up to the Black-Heart name."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I'm not the only one who had a lot to live up to. My grandfather was a member of the Knights of the Nine, and Ceras' right hand."

"The Hero of Cyrodiil?! Are you joking?"

"That was normal for my father, though. My family is Nordic royalty, one of the greatest warrior clans to hail from Skyrim. My father was supposed to continue our bloodline of Nordic kings and queens like his brothers did – marry a strong Nordic female warrior and have children." A grin spread across Ansen's face and he laughed. "He did that, married a woman he didn't care for that his parents arranged for him and had two children, my older brother and sister, but then while on a trip to Cyrodiil one day, he met an Imperial waitress at a local tavern. A year following the one-night-stand that ensued, my father returned to the province to take over its branch of the Silver Sparrows and found that the woman he'd slept with had since given birth to a child – me."

"So … your family doesn't think very highly of you, I guess?"

"They think I'm just a mistake my father made, that I shouldn't have ever happened, that I'm actually not even a member of their clan…"

Mara could see the angry look in Ansen's eyes. His body language had changed, darkened. She could almost see the rage resonating from him. Mara cleared her throat and said, "There's, uh, nothing you can really do about that, though."

"Maybe you're right." Ansen rose and said, "You should head back to the camp. Sindell's going to be looking for you if he wakes up."

Mara looked up at him and shrugged. Deciding it was best to just drop it, she stood as well and dusted herself off. "You're right."

Once Mara disappeared back into the blackness of the forest, Ansen's eyes found Sindell, leaning himself against a tall oak tree. His silhouette could barely be made out in the shadows, but he was there, just like he had been the entire time, watching. Ansen knew Sindell followed Mara out of camp.

"Shouldn't you go too?" Ansen asked.

"You knew I was here the whole time, didn't you?" Sindel asked in response, a little surprised.

"Yeah."

Sindell turned to follow Mara back to camp and said, "We leave at first light; be ready."

"Alright."

If they left camp at daybreak, they could reach Imperial City by the afternoon. Ansen watched the fire dance before him, allowing his mind drift away from him as his dinner simmered was roasted over the heat.

* * *

Finally as the sun sat high in the sky, the trio came upon the giant gates of the Imperial City. The wood doors were reinforced with steel so they could not easily be broken down, an addition brought on by the Oblivion Crisis. The city was a fortress before the attacks, but now it would take a well-trained army to even penetrate its walls.

The guards at the gate stepped up and stopped the three travelers. "Hold," the high-elf said to Mara. "What've you got back here?"

"Just delivering some ore," she replied to the tall man as he walked around to the back of the carriage.

"Open the back," he ordered.

Sindell and Ansen watched from atop their steeds as Mara dismounted off of the carriage and walked around to the back. She opened the doors and allowed the guard to peek inside at what she was carrying.

He nodded and said, "Alright, you can pass through."

The guard walked back to his post by the gate and continued his watch. Mara looked up at Sindell and Ansen like she was supposed to say something.

"Well, we're here… Your jobs done then, I guess," she said.

"I guess so," Ansen told her. "Are you going to be alright from here on?"

"I'll be fine," she said approaching their horses. Mara walked up and extended her hand to Ansen.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. "Contact us if you need the Sparrows again."

Mara extended her hand to Sindell as well. He reluctantly shook her hand and snapped his horse's reigns when she released. Without another word he rode off back across the bridge that brought them to the Imperial City.

"Goodbye, Mara," Ansen said as he rode off as well.

The merchant's daughter led her carriage into the walls of the Imperial City and to Jarak's shop. He was a very old friend of her father's and the entire reason that she hauled this ore to the city. Jarak needed the ore to forge weaponry for a group of sailors that were shipping off soon, she was told.

Mara stopped her carriage in front of Jarak's home; a two-story brick building with a wide chimney for the forge inside the house and aqua colored shutters. She got down from her carriage and knocked on the door lightly. The wood door creaked upon when she touched it, apparently already unlocked. Mara peeked inside the den of the large dark abode.

"Jarak, are you here? I've got your ebony ore," Mara announced. Her voice echoed throughout the house.

She hesitantly entered Jarak's abode. The Khajiit didn't seem to be present, but Mara wanted to make sure that he wasn't in the back and just couldn't hear. She walked deep into the home, to where she remembered he pounded ore and stone into deadly weapons. All Mara found was an empty forge at the back of the house.

She was confused. He never left his forge completely unattended; either he, ore his assistant were there to watch the place in case anyone came by. The sound of footsteps brought her eyes back to the door.

"Jarak?"

It wasn't him. It wasn't even Jerak's assistant, Nelis. It was one of the men that attempted to kidnap her the other day. She jumped back reflexively and got as far awau from this man as possible. He was a thick Argonian with dark blue scales and red eyes. He towered over Mara by at least a foot and a half.

"Hello, dear. Why don't you come along with me, nice and easy? I wouldn't want you to get hurt in a struggle…" he said, taking a step toward her.

Mara wasn't that stupid. And she wasn't defenseless either, as this man apparently assumed, standing before her so relaxed. She held her left hand up and concentrated. The man took a step toward Mara and waved his index finger side to side.

"Unless your magic is powerful enough to fry me in a single shot, I wouldn't do that," the man said, flexing the muscles beneath his scales.

Mara hesitated, and lowered her hand. The amphibian smiled, his sharp pointed teeth showing and said, "Good girl."

Mara smiled as well, baring her human teeth. "Do you even realize what kind of danger you're in right now? Do you?"

The Argonian ignored her words and approached Mara. As he drew closer to her, he saw the canine teeth in her grin elongate. Her fingernails grew longer as did her tongue with now hung from her mouth, coming almost down to her abdomen. Her voice was a bellowing shriek that cut through the Argonian's ears.

"How do I look?" she asked, her voice sending a chill up his spine.

"What in the nine are you?!"

Tears of blood ran down her face and she let out a banshee-like scream. "I am going to devour your flesh!"

The bandit collapsed to the forge floor, quivering like a frightened puppy. Her fear spell had slithered into its way into his head with ease. Mara stepped over his shaking, whimpering form and made her way out of the house.

She was still wondering what happened to Jarak, but assumed he was taken by the bandits. As she passed through the den threshold, a fist came down on the back of Mara's skull and went slipped into unconsciousness. She fell to the hardwood floor as Krush, the leader of the Copper Company shook his head as he looked at the girl. He hoisted Mara up onto his shoulder and walked out the door.

Two of his men, Hamon and Luis, were waiting for him outside. "Where's Rach?" Hamon asked noticing the strange absence of the Argonian.

"Inside, lying in a puddle of his own urine…" Krush said, walking past them.

"W-we're not leaving him here, are we?"

"He was rendered helpless by a merchant. He can stay here… Let the guards play with him."

Hamon and Luis followed Krush away from the house, but the former asked as they were walking, "What if he tells the guards of our headquarters' location?"

"Hence why we're moving to one of our safe houses you idiot. Now hurry up; I want to get this girl out of my hands as soon as possible…"


	4. Copper Teeth

Taking a tired seat at the bar, Sindell took a look around at the old Roxey Inn. The place hadn't changed much over the past twelve years Sindell had been in Cyrodiil. It'd been his home on more than one occasion and the owners knew him quite well. Sindell didn't start any trouble and mostly kept to himself, which is what they liked.

He leaned back in his seat, wondering when Warren would pay him for this job. Sindell would probably rest for about a week, and then return to Warren to see if he had another job lined up for him. The Nord usually gave the upper echelon of the Silver Sparrows the much tougher assignments because of their higher experience level, with this last mission being an exception for Sindell. Varris Addevicci actually paid more for a more experienced Sparrow to escort his daughter so Warren sent Sindell along.

"What can I get for you?" The Breton behind the bar asked.

Sindell opened his eyes to look at the short bartender and closed them again.

"Sujumma," he responded.

"Umm… what?"

"Sujumma."

"I don't think we have … that"

"The owners always keep a bottle on-hand for me. Go look," Sindell told him, pointing his thumb toward the storage room.

"I'll see if I can find what you want."

After the bartender walked off, Sindell turned to the person who'd just taken a seat right beside him and rolled his eyes. "Orlia…" he groaned.

"Good to see ya' again, Sindy," the Bosmer woman said with wide, toothy grin.

There was always no telling when Sindell would run into this unpredictable woman, but he never thought she'd come so close to the capitol city. Orlia and a few others used to be sellers of information on Cyrodiil's black market and were wanted by the Imperial Legion with a ten thousand Septim bounty resting on each of their heads. At one point Sindell pursued those bounties, and actually found the illusive and intelligent woman, but decided to let her and pursue the others instead.

Not many knew that Sindell had allowed the woman escape, and he would like to keep it that way. Orlia always swore she'd repay him for helping her on that fateful evening, even though Sindell insisted otherwise.

The woman was short, a light brown skin complexion with freckles dotting the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. The sides of her skull were shaved and her brown locks were in a loose Mohawk with the front of her hair falling before her face. The pure black eye of hers that wasn't covered by the Netch leather eye-patch watched Sindell with anticipation.

"What do you want, girl?" Sindell asked, turning his head away from her.

Scooting her bar stool closer to his, Orlia rested her head on Sindell's shoulder and asked, "An old friend can't say hello?"

"… Hello…"

"What brings you out here near the capitol? Work, I assume?"

"I just finished a job this afternoon," Sindell said, lightly shrugging her off of his shoulder. "What're you doing so close to Imperial City? Aren't they still looking for you?"

"You know the Legion isn't smart enough to look for me this close to home," Orlia said confidently as the bartender returned. "I work at the Roxey part time now."

"I didn't even know we had this back there!" the bartender laughed as he sat the bottle of Sujumma down on the counter alongside an empty mug. The man turned his eyes to the woman joining Sindell at the bar and smiled. "Off tonight, Orlia? What can I get you?"

"Actually, I think I'll have some of that Sujumma," she replied.

The man tilted the bottle, pouring the gold liquid into the two tankards. "Thanks, Falk," Orlia nodded, bringing the rim of her glass to her lips.

"Let me know if either of you need anything," he said, going off to look after some of the other customers.

Sindell sipped some of the Sujumma and returned the wood mug to the bar-top. "So, what rumors have you come across recently?"

"Come on, Sindy. You know I keep my head out of the information trade now."

"That's a lie. You still dabble here and there, I'm sure."

Orlia smiled, amused Sindell was able to see through her so easily. "Well, I _have_ heard a few rumors recently…"

"Like?" Sindell asked, continuing to drink.

"Like the one going around that the Copper Company is moving in on Silver Sparrow territory."

Sindell's eyes stayed on his tankard. "You can't believe everything you hear, y'know…"

"Of course not, sweetie…" The Bosmer woman took a breath after drinking half of her mug and said, "I also heard that the leader of Copper Company is looking for revenge against the two Sparrows that took out some of his best men."

"Is that a fact?" Sindell smirked.

"And just like always, you-"

"Didn't hear this from you…"

"Now that that business is over and done with," Orlia said, smiling brightly, "what happened to your hair?"

"I dyed it," Sindell told her.

Orlia reached up, entangling her fingers in Sindell's bleach blonde hair. "You look like a madman!" she said.

"A madman?"

"Yeah, but the sexy kind, not the insane, barking kind…"

"Thanks…" Sindell said, refilling his tankard of Sujumma.

* * *

Warren let out a deep sigh and rubbed his calloused hands together. He looked up at Varris, who appeared as if he hadn't slept in days, which he probably hadn't. The stocky, dark haired man wouldn't stop fidgeting in his chair, obviously worried.

"No one was there?" Warren asked him.

"No one but the city guard and the man they were arresting… They refused to tell me a damn thing…" Varris said.

Warren's eyes shot to the front door when he heard deadbolt being unlocked. His son entered the house, and shut the door behind him, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Varris sitting with his father.

"Ansen, did you take Mara to Imperial City?" Warren asked.

"Of course," Ansen responded without hesitation.

"Well, she's not there anymore," Warren said.

"Alright…?"

"The man she was delivering the ore to is gone as well. She was supposed to wait for her father at Imperial City…"

"You think something happened?"

"Maybe…"

One singular thought came to Ansen's mind: the Copper Company. But there was no way they could've tracked her into Imperial City, and then left without resistance from the city watch… unless they had some of the guards on payroll.

"I'm going back…" Ansen said, walking past them and toward the armory at the back of his father's house.

"Exactly what I had in mind. Mr. Addevicci is willing to pay extra if you track her down," Warren said.

Ansen opened the weapon room door and entered the large space. Weapons of different types, sizes, and shapes lined the walls all around him, but there were only a few he was looking for. He grabbed a steel crossbow, several bolts to match, and refilled his quiver of arrows.

Ansen exited the room and faced Varris. "Are there any people that would target your daughter to get to you?" he asked.

Varris shook his head. "None that I know of…"

Ansen looked to his father. He then turned and started toward the front door. "I'll see if I can find her. Maybe I'll run into Sindell along the way."

* * *

Sindell bit into the sweetroll he bought from the Roxey as his horse strode beneath him. He was finally on his way back to the Sparrow headquarters after spending two days at the Inn, catching up with Orlia. There was something about the Bosmer woman that allowed her to get beneath his skin. Something about her…

He shrugged off the strange power that Orlia had over him and continued to eat the bread in his hand. A chestnut horse and its rider rocketed by Sindell, speeding in the opposite direction like a cliffracer. Sindelll turned around and watched the rider pull back on his steed's reins and the mount came to a screeching halt.

"Sindell!" Ansen called.

"Ansen."

"We need to go back to the Imperial City, now!" Ansen said. "Mara's gone missing!"

"What?"

"I'll explain on the way, just come on!"

Sindell tossed the bread aside and spurred his horse on. He and Ansen sped back in the direction of Cyrodiil's capitol city as the young Imperial-Nord explained what he was told by his father and what their objective was. The Dunmer was quiet the entire time that Ansen spoke.

"Are you thinking what I am?" Ansen asked once he was done telling the tale.

"They were after her from the beginning…" Sindell said thoughtfully.

"If that is the case, why?"

"We'll probably find out."

As they came upon the two that men guarded the gates main gates. The two mercenaries dismounted and approached the guards.

"Do either of you know where the home of a man named Jarak is?" Ansen asked.

The guard raised an eyebrow. "You, uh, head into town, walk east for three blocks and it's the brick place with the enormous chimney. You can't miss it," the man said.

"Thanks…"

As Ansen and Sindell walked off, one of the guards asked, "Are you here because of the incident from earlier this week?"

"Incident?" Ansen asked. He wondered if the man was talking about Mara's disappearance. "What incident?"

"A girl was kidnapped by a small band of mercenaries just the other day."

Sindell and Ansen met eyes. "What'd the girl look like?" Ansen asked.

"Did she have brown hair, blue eyes, wore a grey coat?" Sindell added.

"Yeah, that's what the witness said…" the guard shrugged.

"What happened?" Sindell asked. "How was she taken?"

"Well, about five men, all heavily armed, broke into Jarak's place, and kidnapped her."

"Where were the guards at the time?"

"Seven of our men heard the girl thrashing and hollering and went over to see what was going on. Those barbarians killed all of the guards except for one, and he was terribly wounded…"

Sindell knew it was Copper Company. There wasn't any point in asking the guards any further questions, though Ansen continued to inquire about the event. The rival mercenaries were definitely hired by someone to capture her. The only unanswered question was why.

"Ansen, let's go," he said, cutting the younger merc's interrogation short.

Ansen looked at Sindell, confused. "But we need information if we're going to find her…"

"Well, I know a better source of information."

* * *

Ansen followed Sindell into the Roxey Inn, wondering why they were at a place like this. Sindell made a beeline for one of the waitresses, a pixie of a Wood Elf that was sitting at one of the tables, playing with the silverware.

When she looked up and saw the man entering the building, she smiled and waved him over. "You just can't stay away, can you? It's the eye-patch, right?"

"I need some more information, Orlia," Sindell said, impatient.

Orlia raised a questioning brow and smirked. "Really? About?"

"The kidnapping in the Imperial City a few days ago. You know the one I'm talking about."

"I wouldn't know a thing about that sordid affair," she said flatly. Sindell noticed her one eye glancing at Ansen.

Sindell smirked and said, "Don't worry, he's with me."

"Huh. I still don't know a thing about the kidnapping from the other day, like the perpetrators, for example…"

Sindell looked down at the napkin she was toying with on the table. She'd writing something with the quill in her hand on the small piece of cloth.

_The Orc at the bar and the man sitting alone in the corner. Arrived yesterday._

Discreetly Sindell turned his eyes at the man at the bar, an Orc a little larger than him sat there with his head down. Sindell then feigned a yawn and glanced at the other man in Orlia had pointed out, an Imperial with a scarred face sat vigilantly watching the bar, his eyes searching for anything suspicious. He'd looked over at Sindell and Ansen several times since they entered, the Imperial-Nord noticed.

Sindell nodded to Orlia. A smile returned to her sharp face and she grabbed a hold of Sindell's hand and stood. "Come here for a minute," she said.

Orlia led him over to a dark corner of the room with a mischievous look and pushed him against the wall. She placed her lips to his and slithered her tongue into his mouth. Her hands came to his sides as she kissed along Sindell's collar bone and up his neck to his ear.

The woman froze there and began to whisper into his ear. "There are a lot more of them upstairs, maybe five or six," she said, licking at his jaw. "They're not just staying here; they're guarding something up there. The Orc and the man in the corner have been watching every since they arrived. Sentries."

Orlia finally broke the passionate exchange and stepped away from Sindell. "Sorry about that. Couldn't help myself."

"Thanks, Orlia."

"It was my pleasure, Sindy. Just be careful, okay?"

Sindell walked by Orlia and headed back toward the door. Ansen stood by the entrance, mouth agape. "An old friend of yours I'm assuming?"

Sindell walked past him and out the door without responding. Ansen followed him outside and asked, "So, do we know where she is?"

"Yeah. She's here, at the Roxey," Sindell said.

"What?"

"The Copper Company is keeping her here."

"So, what's the plan?"

"First, we wait until nightfall."


	5. Birds of Prey

The nightbirds that were nesting in the tree above quickly fluttered away as Ansen scrambled up the trunk of the old oak. He clambered up to a branch he thought sturdy enough to support his weight and pulled himself up to it. Ansen grabbed a hold of his bow, strung a steel arrow and directed the projectile toward one of the second floor windows of the Roxey inn.

He was in position. Now Sindell just needed to get inside and get Mara out. Ansen didn't like the idea of having to wait, he was antsy, but it was the best strategic decision. Sindell surprised Ansen with his plan for getting Mara out of the Roxey. Sindell told him he would stir up trouble inside, and once things were nice and hectic, Ansen was to fire an arrow with a sturdy rope tied to the end at the window pane, slither along to the Inn's second floor, sneak in and get Mara out while the Copper Company was preoccupied.

He steadied his breathing, always keeping a watchful eye on the back door of the Roxey in case someone tried to make a run for it. Ansen figured Sindell was getting ready to start the first step of his plan, so he continued to wait, knowing his part would soon come…

Sindell re-entered the Roxey, looking around the bar. Orlia was behind the bar speaking to the Breton bartender when she saw him come in. She patted the man on the shoulder roughly and immediately went outside to get some fresh air. Orlia didn't even glance in Sindell's direction as she passed the white-haired Dunmer by.

He took note of the two men that were sitting hanging around the bar area. One was different from the one from earlier that day, yet they both still seemed to serve the exact same purpose: one sat at the bar drinking, the larger of the two, an Imperial, and another sat in the back, almost unnoticed, watching. The man from earlier with the scarred face saw Sindell and tensed. He remembered the Elf from this afternoon and didn't know why he'd suddenly returned. The man's hand slowly floated toward the dagger that was sitting on the table before him.

Sindell could tell by the sight of these two that they weren't inexperienced. They'd both seen their fair share of combat, probably in the Imperial Legion, before going mercenary. He mused at the thought of taking these two veterans on at once, wondering if Ansen's help would actually be needed.

He walked over to the bar, shoulders relaxed and not showing any signs of aggression, and sat two chairs down from the mercenary drinking. The man barely noticed Sindell's presence.

The Breton came to Sindell and asked, "What'll it be?"

"Sujumma," Sindell responded.

"Got it."

He retrieved the bottle of Morrowind brandy from beneath the bar, popped the cork and poured a tall mug. He offered the mug to Sindell, but he waved the wood away.

"Just gimme' the bottle…"

The Breton shrugged. "Alright."

Sindell grabbed the bottle by its base, flipped it up into the air as soon as the bartender released it, gripped the bottle again by the neck and smashed it over the head of the mercenary that was sitting just a stool over from him. The man sitting in the corner shot up out of his seat and chucked his dagger at Sindell's head.

His reflexes were the only thing that saved his life, the rocketing blade sliced Sindell's left cheek as his head was jerked out of the way. Sindell closed in on the man, mace already drawn and coming for the Imperial's scarred face. The man bent over backwards, allowing the swing to pass right over him, but fell to the floor in the process.

Before Sindell could try and deliver a downward strike to him, the other Imperial came rushing over and tackled the Dunmer from behind. He mounted Sindell and began raining closed fisted blows onto the smaller man's face. As his face was pummeled, Sindell wrapped his fingers around his assailant's neck. He cast frost right onto the muscular Imperial's throat, freezing everything under the skin.

With a gurgle, the Copper Company mercenary stopped breathing. Sindell threw punch at the man's face, knocking his whole head from his body due to the fragile state of his neck. Once that merc was dispatched, Sindell turned his attention to the other.

The man with the scarred face drew his iron sword and twirled it. "Hey, we got trouble down here!" he shouted.

Just what Sindell wanted. He wanted all the Copper Company's attention on him so that Ansen could o his part. He could hear them rousing from their slumber above him and prepared himself for an ordeal. Sindell invoked an enchantment and cast several shock runes onto the stairs leading down to the bar.

He turned back to the man that stood across from him and said, "You cut my face…" Sindell wiped away the blood running down his face from the wound on his cheek. "I'm gonna' crush your skull…"

* * *

Ansen could hear the fighting going on inside and thought that his cue to make a move. He aimed the steel arrow with the cable attached to the end at the second floor window of the Roxey and pulled back on the string. Before he could fire though, something caught his attention. He listened carefully and could hear hooves thumping dirt in the distance.

He snapped his head around and saw three horses strutting down the road to the Roxey.

"Hey, Krush, are you sure this is the place?" Hamon asked as they dismounted.

"The old Roxey Inn; yeah this is it…" Krush replied, glancing warily around the woods that surrounded the place.

Ansen bit his bottom lip. He recognized the man at the head of the group as Krush, a former member of the Silver Sparrows. He was one of the more aggressive members of the group. Ansen used to be deathly afraid of the crazy bastard when he was younger, and for good reason. His sister used to tell him stories about some of the stuff she heard that Krush did.

Now, Krush wore the colors and the symbol of the Copper Company, which was bad. Really bad. If it actually meant that he was a part of the rival company, than Sindell was in trouble. No one, at least to Ansen's knowledge had ever beaten Krush in a one on one confrontation before, except for Ansen's father back when he and Krush were both young men.

Ansen had two options at this point: go for Mara and leave Sindell, hoping he could fend off Krush long enough to get the girl out, or help Sindell deal with Krush, maybe evening the odds a little against the merc and his group. Ansen decided to let Sindell handle Krush alone, hoping that Sindell's could handle himself.

He waited for Krush to head inside the Roxey and swallowed. Ansen fired the cable at the second floor window, placed his bow atop the steel, and grabbed it tightly with both hands. He then allowed gravity to ferry him across the gap to the window and crashed through, landing with a thud on the hard wood floor.

There was only one man guarding Mara who lay on the bed tied up with rope. The Redguard jumped when Ansen came through the window, and, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, was unprepared for Ansen's swift attack. The younger man quickly strung an arrow and let it fly into the man's chest, stopping him from doing anything.

Ansen ran to Mara's side and removed the cloth that covered her mouth.

"What're you doing here?" she asked.

"Your father hired us again, this time to find you," Ansen said as he cut her free.

"Thank the gods…"

Ansen grabbed Mara and brought her to the window he'd just come in through. Two grey balls, each about the size of an apple, the texture of paper were tossed up into Ansen's waiting hand from outside. He peered out the window down at Orlia and nodded gratefully. The short girl pulled a bandana up over her face and shot off into the woods.

Ansen turned to Mara and said, "Take a deep breath and jump…"

"Take breath and what?"

"We're just on the second floor, it'll be alright. Probably…"

"But-"

"We don't have time for this! Just jump dammit!"

Mara cringed, looking down at the ground. "I hate heights…"

* * *

Sindell ducked and weaved out of the way of the surprisingly precise swings. If the warhammer hit him, it'd break any bone that it smashed into, the reason why Sindell was on the defensive.

Sindell's magicka was already half depleted and on top of that he was fighting Krush. He'd fought Krush before, back before he was made to leave the Silver Sparrows, just as a sparring exorcise, but even so Sindell almost died that day. The only thing that saved him was the restoration magick of, Jol, another mercenary.

The other members of the Copper Company stood back and watched, just as Krush ordered them. The huge Mohawked Imperial apparently wanted to fight Sindell alone. He was still the same warmongering, bloodthirsty beast that he was when he was still in the Sparrows.

Krush stopped swinging his silver and black, flat-headed hammer and stood there. "You disappoint me, Dren…" he sighed. "I expected a better fight from you…"

"I'm not here to fight, or please you, Krush," Sindell said. "I'm just here for the girl…"

"So the Sparrows are the ones that contracted with her? Don't tell me you're the one that killed my men."

"Your men should've been better trained."

"Did you also kill the ones from two days ago as well?"

Sindell squinted. "Two days ago? No."

"Then you're not the one I was looking for. I guess you'll do until I find the man that killed Targis."

Krush came rushing toward Sindell again. The Dunmer shot a bolt of electricity at the man, but he deflected it with the head of his warhammer. Sindell hated that enchanted weapon. It had the ability to dispel any form of magick that came in contact with it.

Sindell began to backpedal again, trying to think of a way past that hammer. Getting in close with his mace wasn't going to cut it since Krush had him beat in the reach department. Sindell was running out of room to retreat…"

A small grey ball bounced down the stairs of the inn and rolled to the center of the room. Another ball soon followed, and Sindell knew it was his cue. He hurled flicked a spark from his hand right at the two and once one of the balls came in contact with it, the thing burst into a plume of black smoke.

Sindell quickly covered his mouth and nose and hurled another fire spell at the second ball, detonating that as well. Sindell sprinted through the fog, past Krush and his men and out the door.

"Don't breathe in, it's poison!" Krush said to his men.

Sindell cast a fire rune on the door as he exited the inn and darted into the thick of the woods. He didn't anticipate the leader of the Copper Company showing up, nor did he anticipate the man being Krush. They were in a little bit of trouble right now, and Sindell couldn't figure a way out of it.

He met up with Ansen and Mara near the road that led to Imperial City. The two seemed unscathed, except for Mara standing on one leg.

"What happened to her?" Sindell asked.

"She tweaked her ankle jumping from the room," Ansen said.

"Where'd you get the smoke bombs?"

"Your little friend tossed 'em up to me. Don't know where she got them."

"Well, we've got a problem."

"Krush? I saw him approaching, but had no way of warning you."

"Can't you guys just go to the Legion about these Copper Company people?" Mara asked, leaning against Ansen.

"Imperial Legion law states that they can't get directly involved with two rival mercenary organizations," Ansen said.

"So what do we do?" Mara asked, throwing her hands into the air.

"We could go back to the Sparrows Nest, get help from my father and the others," Ansen suggested.

"Near Anvil? It's too far, and on top of that Krush will see that move coming… they'll catch us before then."

"Fine then, let's just ambush them. Let's fight instead of turning tail and running!" Ansen said.

Sindell shook his head and sighed. "You sound just like your father…"

"He sounds like a Black-Heart," they heard a deep female voice state.

They all turned to where the voice emanated. A tall, black-haired Nordic woman wearing a set of steel armor and black boots approached the trio. She had a strong face, blue eyes and a crooked smile. Her name was Reli Black-Heart and she was Ansen's half-sister.

"Reli?" Ansen grinned. He sprinted over to the woman and tackled her in a tight hug.

The tall woman lifted him up in the air and turned his squeeze into a tight bear hug. "It's good to see you two, Ansen," she said.

"What're you doing here?" Sindell asked the woman as he knelt down, allowing Mara to climb up onto his back.

"I got back yesterday and ran over when dad told me what was going on. I hope they didn't give you two knuckleheads too much trouble."

"Yeah, we ran into a few problems," Sindell said.

"And one of them is named Krush," Ansen said.


	6. SIlver and Copper

"Find them! Spread out and find them!" Krush barked. His men fanned out throughout the woods near the Roxey, searching for the Silver Sparrows. "I want the girl alive, but the other two die, understood?"

The torches of his men looked like fireflies coasting about the woodland in the dark. It was only Sindell and one other Sparrow with him, from what Krush's men told him. He was beginning to tire of this girl's protectors and just wanted this job to be over with.

Krush stopped and looked at his men's torches carefully. One was missing. There used to be nine flames burning but only eight were before him. His Company found them, Krush knew. He tightened the grip he had on his warhammer and grinned. Krush would have Sindell's head before the night was done, he vowed.

* * *

Ansen stopped his run and slid to a halt, taking cover behind one of the thick tree trunks. He strung another arrow in his bow, turned and aimed at one of the men that were pursuing them. He launched the arrow into the man's forehead, and took a third arrow from his quiver, ready to fire.

He turned his head around to make sure that Mara was still safely behind him. She stood right at his side, putting little pressure on her right leg. "You alright?" he asked.

"I'll be fine as long as I don't have to run," she said, leaning against the tree.

Ansen turned and looked back at the Copper Company. He and the other Sparrows had to use the darkness to their advantage, or else this would be a very uneven battle. Ansen's only job was to stay out of sight, provide support at range when he could and make sure Mara was protected. He would be the least of Krush's worries though with Sindell _and_ Reli skulking about.

Another enemy mercenary fell when Sindell emerged from the foliage, rushed the man from behind, put his palm to the merc's head and cast shock. The man collapsed to the dirt, smoke rising from his eye-sockets. Hamon noticed the brief spark of light and trotted over to investigate.

"'Ey, handsome..." Reli called as the man came upon Sindell.

The Altmer turned to the sturdy female voice, quick enough with his hands to unsheath his blade and block the incoming axe swing with the edge of his elven sword. The Nord woman that faced him was thoroughly stronger than Hamon, and he was beginning to lose his block. Quickly, Hamon dropped down and attempted to sweep her feet with a low kick, but the woman blocked his attack with a kick of her own, stomping his shin and drove one of her axes into his chest.

She swept the blood from her heavy weapon and looked to Sindell expectantly.

"I saw him coming…" Sindell said.

Reli smiled, always amused by the deadly Elf. "Course ya' did."

"Five left," Sindell said, looking at the remaining fires that burned. "We should create a diversion and-"

"I say we just take them!" Reli growled viciously.

"I agree, but we should do it carefully."

"Oh, stop being so prissy!"

Reli rushed toward three of the mercs that were grouped together, moving low and quick, trying to stay below their vision. By the time they saw her coming, she was already upon them. One mercenary was swiftly beheaded with a single swing and another received a bone-crushing kick to the chest. As the man fell to the dirt, she stomped on his chest.

The third man raised his blade to Reli but a ball of magickal frost interrupted and incased his skull in ice. He smashed his fists into the ice that suffocated him, trying depserately to get air into his lungs. Reli glanced back at Sindell who stood about four feet away.

"I saw him," Reli told him with a smirk.

Sindell furrowed his brow.

* * *

Ansen shook his head disappointingly and said, "I can't see Sindell or my sister any more. It's too dark."

"Y'think they're alright?" she asked.

"Dunno'."

It was quiet. More-so than Ansen liked. Not even the nightbirds were chirping now. Just silence was all that was heard by him and Mara. A while ago, he'd heard the sounds of conflict, grunts, clashing of steel and iron, but not anymore. Ansen's nervousness began to get to him and he craned his head around like an owl, looking for any sign of movement.

When he did, He saw the worst kind of movement to their left: Krush strolling leisurely in their direction, his eyes locked on Mara. Ansen pushed Mara away and ducked as the warhammer came crashing into the tree trunk he stood beside.

"If it isn't Warren Black-Heart's little _mistake_, baby Ansen! You were still suckling from your mother's tit the last time I saw you," Krush said as he continued to swing at Ansen.

Ansen threw his bow down, arrow still resting on the twine, as he ducked and dodged. He retreated from Krush, dipping behind trees and using the darkness to his advantage.

"Stay still you little shit!" Krush barked.

"Having trouble hitting me, are ya'?" Ansen mocked, trying to anger the Imperial beast.

He saw an opening for attack when Krush tripped over a stray root jutting from the dirt. Ansen drew his dagger, an ebony blade with a seratted edge holstered at his hip, as Krush stumbled and went for the man's neck. Even while trying to regain his balance, the Copper Company leader was able to raise a hand and deflect the attack. With shocking agility, Krush curled up and rolled to his feet.

"You forget boy, that I've fought your father before, and he's a much better hand-to-hand combatant than you," Krush said. "You're still wet behind the ears."

The man picked up his warhammer and spun it playfully. Reli burst through the shadowy darkness, axes in hand, and swung on Krush from behind. Like he had eyes in the back of his head, he ducked down and spun on his heels. Reli backed away as his hammer came at her and countered with a flurry of axe swings. They were easily deflected by the handle of Krush's weapon and the man snapped his leg forward, swiftly kicking his opponent's chest.

Reli planted her feet as the force of the blow came upon her and held her position. Krush drove the end of his hammer into the dirt and leaned against it. "As I live and breath, little Reli, is that you? You've grown into quite the young lady..."

"I wish I could say it's good to see you again, Krush, but…" Reli said.

Krush glanced back at Ansen. "Maybe you'll put up more of a fight than your half-brother."

Ansen stood and freed his iron blade from its scabbard. "You and I aren't through yet."

Krush nodded appreciatively and roared, "Now it's a fight!"

Reli came at him first, swinging her dual weapons at his head and neck in a quick succession. As Krush dodged out of the way of the swings, Ansen stabbed at his back with his short sword. Krush sidestepped the impalement while still ducking Reli's swings and countered both, smashing Ansen in the abdomen with one end of the hammer and his sister with the other.

Krush raised his weapon into the air, and swung it downward at Ansen's head. The dirt exploded upward where Ansen once stood as he stumbled backwards, heart pounding in his chest. As quickly as he could, the Imperial-Nord rose to his feet and blocked the follow-up attack with the edge of his blade and backed away.

"Come on, where is that famous Black-Heart ferocity?!" Krush shouted.

Reli looked off into the woods for Sindell, but didn't yet see him. She figured he must've still been taking on the remaining Copper Company. Reli turned her eyes back to Krush and then to her brother. She discreetly gestured to her right leg and tapped it twice with the handle of her axe. Ansen nodded in recognition and held his blade with both hands.

He and Reli were close and knew each other well enough where they could fluently communicate without words, whether they used hand-signs or simple looks and expressions. He fully understood what she was thinking and knew what she wanted him to do.

Ansen ran straight at Krush like bull, holding his sword horizontally like a jaust. Krush snatched Ansen up into the air and hurled him into a tree twenty feet away. Reli came at him immediately after, attempting to catch Krush off-guard. She closed in faster than Krush thought she could and dug the edge of her axe into his steel cuirass. Before she could swing the other axe, Krush ran his armored fist into her temple.

She could hear ringing in her ears and her eyes blurred. Krush removed the axe from his cuirass and looked down at the blood running down his chest. The wound wasn't deep, but he felt it.

"You should've run me through, Reli," Krush commented.

An arrow pierced his knee between the armor, cutting through his kneecap and stopping there.

"Gotcha'!"

Krush looked to where the shot came from and saw Ansen over by the tree he'd thrown him toward, holding his bow and grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Bastard!" Krush growled.

Reli, still dizzy, rose and punted Krush's skull. "Doesn't feel to good, huh?" she mocked. Reli knelt down, picking up one of her axes and lifted it into the air and drove it down, decapitating the former Sparrow.

His head rolled into Sindell's foot as the Elf approached, his hands covered in soot. He was shocked to see that the half-siblings were able to defeat the man when no one else in Cyrodiil but their own father could. He looked up at them.

"Where one Nirn were you?" Ansen asked furiously as he stood.

"The last two Copper men held me up," Sindell said. "Doesn't look like you needed my help anyway."

"Well, we still could've used you," Reli told him touching her head where she was struck.

Sindell looked to Mara who'd stayed out of the way most of the conflict. "Are you alright?"

"Yes."

Sindell knelt beside Krush's body and began going through his pockets. "What're you doing?" Reli asked.

"Checking for any sort of orders, maybe a letter of request," he responded.

Reli snorted. "Krush is a professiona. What're the chances-"

"Found 'em."

Sindell unfolded a letter he fished from underneath Krush's cuirass. _"Find the girl and bring her to the small cave two miles west of Bravil next Middas. She must be alive. As agreed, you will be rewarded 10,000 Septims."_

"That's all that it says?" Ansen snatched the letter from Sindell's hands and read through it himself.

"We should go and check it out!" Mara said. "I want to know who wants me so badly!"

"I'll talk to your fathers about it, but it's best to head straight back to the Sparrow's Nest," Sindell said.

"I agree with Dren," Reli said calmly.

As he and Reli walked off, Ansen glanced up at Mara and a devious grin. "We leave tomorrow," he said.


	7. Black-Hearts

Ansen glanced around the camp. The dancing light coming from the campfire showed both his sister and Sindell lying asleep. Ansen looked over at Mara, who lay across from him, eyes half-open. He slowly and carefully rose and gestured for her to do so as well.

The Imperial-Nord grabbed his things, all his weapons and the two of them turned to leave camp.

"It shouldn't take long to get to Bruma," he told Mara.

"Going to Bruma, are we?" he heard Reli's distinct voice inquire.

Ansen stopped and sighed. "Y'know me _that_ well, Reli?"

"Like the back of my hand," his sister responded, rolling over and facing Ansen and Mara. "You two aren't going anywhere."

"We'll go, check the place out and be back at the Sparrow's Nest before you even know it!"

"Not happening," Sindell said, rising as well.

"You can't stop me from going," Mara said sternly.

Sindell glanced up at her and replied, "Oh, but I can. We are to bring you back to your father, not let you go running off to the exact same place the Copper Company was trying to take you."

"Come on, Mara, you have to know that sounds like a bad idea, I mean, really…" Reli chuckled.

"That's why I was going with her!" Ansen said.

"No, you were going with her because you _knew_ that it was probably dangerous and you were going to be able to prove your skill," Reli stated as if it was a fact.

"That's not-"

"Oh, shut up," Reli interrupted. "You do all of these different things to try and prove that you're good enough to be a Black-Heart, to prove all of the extended clan-members wrong, show them you're not the 'Black Nightmare's mistake'. You shouldn't try to prove yourself to them, to uncle, auntie, our cousins, because their opinions of you don't matter. I know you're a Black-Heart, father knows you're a Black-Heart, even Dathus knows. Your mother knew it, too."

Ansen stared into his sister's eyes. He finally gave in to his older sibling's wishes and took a seat on the ground. "Fine, dammit."

"Good boy."

"So, no one's going with me?!" Mara asked.

"Afraid not," Sindell told her.

"I'll go alone, then!" Mara said, turning and walking off.

Sindell cast a paralyze spell on her that took affect immediately and Mara began to collapse. Sindell caught her limp body in her arms and carried her back toward the camp. "You're not going either…" he said.

"You're one cold bastard, Sindell," Reli commented with an appreciative grin.

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

* * *

Mara's consciousness slowly returned to her and she groaned. She opened her eyes when she felt the world around her jostling and saw that she was on horseback, her body leaning against the back of whoever held the steed's reins. Mara deduced it to be Ansen's sister she was riding with because of her size and the blonde hair atop the head.

Reli looked back at Mara, and then turned her eyes back to the road. "That paralyze really did a number on you."

Mara slowly pushed herself from Reli, her body sluggish and unresponsive. "Where are we?"

"On our way back to the Sparrow's Nest," she heard Ansen say.

Mara cocked her head to the side to see Ansen riding alongside them. She looked past Reli and saw Sindell riding ahead of them by a few paces, his face buried in another book.

"Son of a bitch," Mara mumbled.

"I heard that," Sindell said to her.

"You were supposed to…" she added.

"Don't be upset because I wasn't inclined to allow you to walk into what might well have been your death. My job is to make sure you're safely returned to your father, and that's what I'm going to do, whether you like it or not."

"Always a charmer, Sindell," Reli laughed.

"I wish you were there when that Wood Elf attacked Sindell's face with her mouth. _That_ was shocking," Ansen said.

"So all the rumors I heard about Sindell being a lady-killer were true. How about that?"

"I mean, she jumped on him like a mountain lion on a buck. Eyes – well, _eye_ – filled with lust and desire. It was almost disturbing…"

"Ooh, kinky."

"I get around," Sindell shrugged.

Jokes aside, Sindell was glad this mission was concluding. He looked forward to actually taking a damn vacation from all these back-to-back assignments. Bringing his eyes back down to his book, Sindell continued to read "Of the Deadlands", a book written by Joanna Leski, the Champion of Cyrodiil's wife, about several different heroes during the Oblivion Crisis, including her famed husband.

One of the longest chapters in the book concerned one of the man's best friends, Horic Black-Heart, Ansen's great grandfather. Sindell heard stories of the man from Warren when they were both quite drunk. Warren would say, "Horic is the reason the Black-Heart's have a place in Cyrodiil, the reason that our name is known."

The members of the Black-Heart clan were all alike in one singular way, despite their differences in personality and appearance. Each of them, from the strongest of men and women to the smallest of children, they were brave and loyal.

Sindell glanced back at Ansen and Reli, talking to each other from horseback and smiled. He envied them; Sindell wasn't as lucky in the family department…

* * *

Dark, raven locks pinned up by a small iron beret, soft green eyes and a small pointed nose, her tan skin that of an Imperial. With a crooked grin and a short wave, the woman greeted Warren at his front door. She was wearing a long cobalt robe, brown sandals with straps that spiraled up her shin to just below her knees and black wool gloves.

"Hello, Warren," she said. Brushing past him and entering the Sparrows Nest, the woman walked back to the pantry. She nodded to Varris as she past him and began to look through the cabinets for her quarry: apples.

She found green Cyrodiilian apples in a wicker basket sitting on the counter and picked one up. After turning it over in her hand several times, looking for imperfections, she walked back into the foyer.

Warren was waiting patiently for her return, tapping his foot rhythmically against the wood floor.

"You've gained some weight," the woman said as she bit into the fruit's green skin.

"And you still show up unannounced," Warren responded.

"Well, this is a bit of an emergency." She looked around the room and asked," Where's Ansen?"

"On a mission."

"It's not the Addevicci girl, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, little Ansen is in a little bit of trouble, then. The Black Sacrament has been committed…"

Warren's eyes narrowed. "The Dark Brotherhood. Why would they be… Someone wants the girl dead!"

"That's usually why the Brotherhood is called."

"But, the Copper Company was just attempting to capture her before. What changed?"

"At this point, does it matter? We just need to find them before it's too late. And we have to make sure that the girl is safe. She's special…"

"Special?" Warren sighed folded his arms. "What've you forgotten to tell me this time?"

Varris shot up out of his seat and ran over. When he opened his mouth to protest, the woman pointed a finger at him and said, "Hold your tongue. I'm not done talking."

The merchant tried and tried, but could not utter and single word. It's like he was made to be mute. The woman turned back to Warren. "Like I was saying, this gentlemen, although very caring for the young girl, is not her father. He's only an appointed guardian."

Warren glanced over to Varris, and then brought his attention back to her. "But who-"

"Enough. We can talk more of it on the way. Get your armor, saddle-up and let's go." The woman walked out of the house, but quickly returned and said, "Bring your rich friend there."

* * *

Nethan heard her voice and stopped scribbling on the parchment. She brought her eyes up and let them rest on the iron casket that stood on the other side of the room. Nethan could hear the Night Mother's orders, her words slithering into her skull like vipers. She rose from his desk, stretched her shoulders and strolled over to the mannequin that her armor stood upon, gently removing the light-weight red and black armor pieces.

The newest member of the Brotherhood entered Nethan's workspace hurriedly, in a fit about something. She didn't really pay much attention to what the Imperial was saying, just finished donning her armor.

Once the madman was finished talking, Nethan looked to him and said, "The mother just spoke to me. The woman called Mara Addevicci must die, and you will be coming with me this time, Cicero."

The wonderfully insane Breton broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter and began to bounce up and down like a child. "Oh, yes, yes! Can Cicero keep her head?"

"What would you do with a severed head?" Nethan asked.

"Heads are bouncy, dear Listener… They make wonderful balls."


	8. A Woman So Deadly

The Bruma sanctuary was always cold, just like the rest of northern Cyrodiil. The Dark Brotherhood's northern base was made out of the expanded cellar of an old shop right near the center of Bruma. It was a lovely little place to hide a small group of highly skilled assassins and murderers.

As Nethan rose from out of the cellar of the small alchemy shop, Cicero right behind her, she looked around to make sure there were no customers around. When she saw there weren't, she continued up into the backyard.

Even at first glance, one could tell the Breton woman was in amazing physical condition. She was well-toned, slightly on the short side, with dark red braided hair and blue eyes. One of the youngest Listeners to date in the Dark Brotherhood, the role was given to her when she still held the rank of Murderer, when the higher-ups learned she could hear the Nightmother's voice.

Cicero, the newest recruit to the Ranks of the dwindling Dark Brotherhood was, unlike Nethan, scrawny with very little musculature on his arms and chest. He seemed to wear a permanent smile on his face, below the narrow nostrils of his nose and his brown eyes. Dark circles surrounded his eye-sockets, like he didn't sleep.

The little man joined the Dark Brotherhood just over a year ago, and Nethan thought he wouldn't have much of a future in the group when one of her subordinates brought him to her, but he fit in right away. The young man had an unnerving knack for murder, and seemed to find it quite pleasurable. He also had a strange obsession with the Nightmother that Nethan didn't understand…

After hopping Bruma's east wall, the duo entered the wilderness and found Folten, the assassin that Nethan had chosen as the one to take her place as leader of the Dark Brotherhood until a new Listener could be found, if anything were to happen to her. The Dunmer held a messenger bird on his arm, reading the note that was attached to its leg.

He had a head of closely shaven black hair, several tattoos decorated his face and a thin beard stood beneath his bottom lip. He wore several ancient elven rings on the fingers of his right hand; jewels passed down through his family and carried a quiver at his hip filled with bolts for the crossbow that was strapped to his back.

When he saw Nethan and Cicero approaching, Folten released the bird and turned to them. "I just received a letter from one of the guards of the Imperial City. He said that while on patrol last night, he saw the target making her way toward Bruma with an armed escort of three: a Dark Elf, male; a Nord, female; and an Imperial, male," Folten reported.

"Three? That's not too bad," Nethan said, tapping her index finger against her chin. She had to think carefully about how they approached this next mission. The last thing she wanted was a drawn out battle. It'd be best to ambush the group, or sneak into their camp at night and cut the girl's throat. Or, better yet… "Folten, you're coming along too, just in case we have to kill her from afar."

"As you wish."

Folten was an unmatched marksman with his wood crossbow. One of the most undetectable assassins Nethan had, since he could kill from such a distance that by the time authorities realized what'd happened, he was already gone, no matter if they actually saw the death occur.

"When do we leave ma'am?" Folten asked.

"Immediately. I want to try and catch them on the road, maybe ambush them."

"Preferably…?" Folten asked, tilting his head to the side, knowing full-well she didn't want to ambush the group.

"I want to kill while they sleep…"

* * *

_Twenty years ago_

* * *

There was no question that Warren loved Skyrim. It was his birthplace, and where his family hailed from. The Nord had to admit, though, that there was something about the Imperial province that kept making him return. Even now, when he was only coming on business for his father, he was glad he could come back again.

Warren looked to his brother who rode directly beside him. He extended his arm and punched his younger sibling in the shoulder. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.

Dathus scowled at his brother. "I swear I'm gonna' beat you in a dual one of these days, Warren."

"You're not still sore about me winning earlier today, are you?"

Dathus chuckled at the mocking expression Warren wore and punched him back. "Bastard."

"Come on. Let's go get something to eat. We can go to the Flowing Bowl in town," Warren said as they slowly approached Anvil.

The pair could hear the raucous cheers of the Anvil people as they danced and toasted their drinks. It was the anniversary of the closing of the Oblivion gates, the day that was made a Cyrodiilian holiday. The day that, one-hundred and seventy years ago, Martin Septim sacrificed himself to save the province from the Deadric prince of destruction and revolution, Mehrunes Dagon.

Warren and Dathus entered into Anvil as fireworks exploded in the sky, lighting the night with bright, vibrant colors for only a brief few seconds. "I'm gonna' drink enough for Martin and Ceras!" Dathus declared, pounding his chest.

"I don't know about that, little brother… I've heard the Champion could handle his liquor."

"I bet I could drink _you_ under the table, Warren."

"I accept your challenge!"

The two Black-Heart brothers burst through the doors of the Flowing Bowl and looked around for an open table. There were none, so they relieved two unconscious patrons of theirs since it appeared they couldn't use it and sat down.

"Waitress, two tankards of your very strongest mead for my brother and me!" Warren demanded.

A tall Imperial woman with black hair and gorgeous green eyes turned her head in their direction. She reached behind the bar, grabbed two tankards, quickly filling them with so much mead that it overflowed, and ran them over to the table.

"Here you are," she said with a sigh. "What else could I get you?"

"Just keep bringing mead until we stop moving," Dathus told her. "Happy Closing Day, by the way."

"Likewise," the woman smiled.

She looked at the birds sewn into their armor and reached out to touch the expert stitching. "You two are Sparrows? Oh, you drink free!" she said.

"Why?" asked Warren.

"They've helped us with robberies and the like over the years, so all Silver Sparrows are welcome guests at the Flowing Bowl."

Warren swiftly swallowed his drink and screamed, "Fantastic!"

"Well, I'm Talia. Just holler if you want anything else," the woman said, trotting off to attend to the other patrons.

Dathus watched her leave and then turned to his brother, whose eyes still fell upon the Imperial. "Someone's caught your eye, brother."

"It looks that way, brother."

Talia looked back at the pair several times as she bounded around the room. "No woman can resist the charms of a Black-Heart, as they say."

That was the slogan of the Black-Heart men. Though, Warren felt as if it was _he_ was the one that couldn't resist. As Talia floated around the room, her hips swayed, and her eyes kept to Warren. She entranced him, for some strange reason.

Warren remembered that he had an arranged marriage on the horizon. He'd already met his soon-to-be bride, Felsi, and cared for her, but their engagement was mostly for the good of their two clans. The Wolfbane's would become a part of the Black-Hearts, and as a result, the two rival clans would end their century old feud.

He and Felsi felt more like companions living together than actual spouses. It was a strange, but comfortable relationship.

As Warren thought to himself, a rather large Orc sitting in the back of the tavern began to make a fuss over Talia accidentally knocking his drink over, spilling the contents into his lap. He stood from his table as she apologized and wrapped his hand around her neck. Both Warren and Dathus rose and made their way over to the man.

Just by looking, Warren could tell he was a mercenary, just like the sibling duo, but the Orc appeared to be freelance, without any form of group identification. He had no insignia or symbol on his armor, noting visibly inked into his skin. That meant that this man was alone, and Warren could say or do whatever he wanted to him without agitating a rival mercenary organization.

"Let her go," Warren demanded sternly. "She apologized already."

"I didn't ask for your input, Nord," the Orc retorted, pushing Talia up against the wall.

Warren reached out and placed a hand on the Orc's shoulder. In return, he received an elbow to the jaw that knocked him off balance. That set Dathus off. The younger Nord walked in the Orc's direction, fists bawled. Before he could lay a hand on the man, though, the green-skinned man started to scream.

He quickly released Talia and grabbed onto his arm where she touched him. His skinned was burning like he'd stuck his arm into a fire.

"You should really keep your temper under wraps. It will get you into trouble," Talia said, rubbing her neck.

Warren stood quickly, blood running from his broken nose, and tackled the Orc. He lifted him up and drove him down through the wood table the man had just been drinking at. Warren stood over the man and began raining close-fisted blows onto his face.

Once he was thoroughly pummeled, Warren dismounted, stood and spat on the Orc. Warren reset the structure of his nose and turned to Talia. "You know magic?" he asked.

"A little…" she said, creating a small flame in the palm of her hand.

"Well, it doesn't seem like you needed my help," he said. "Next time, I'll stay out of it and keep my nose unbroken."

"I appreciate the thought, handsome."

With that, Talia walked away, off to continue her work. She glanced back at the tall, black-haired Nord and grinned. She liked this one…

* * *

4E 191

* * *

Warren had never ridden something so fast. He'd also never been so high in the air before, riding atop a speeding cliffracer. Talia had summoned the two reptilian beasts from a scroll of some sort she pulled from her bag. Warren wasn't an easily scared man, but atop the Morrowind native creature, he held onto the reigns for dear life.

He looked over at Talia and Varris, who were doing the very same. "Damn you, Talia! Couldn't we have taken the blasted horses?!"

"Too slow! We need to find my son, now!" Talia said.

Varris vomited off the side of the flying beast but never once let go of Talia's waist. "Let me off…" he said.

"I'm not landing, so the only way off of _this_ ride is gravity," Talia told him.

His grip on her tightened. "Never mind!"

Warren understood Talia's urgency. The Dark Brotherhood, although not as prominent as they were two hundred years ago, were still a violent force to be reckoned with. They almost didn't exist back in Skyrim, but here in Cyrodiil, Sithis was still called on.


	9. Assassin's folly

Folten gently ran his hand over Shadowmere's head, thankful to the speedy creature for ferrying him to his destination so very quickly. All was set and the well-trained elf knew what he needed to do to set the ambush into motion. He held his crossbow down with his foot and pulled the twine back, placing a single bolt onto the weapon.

Once the crossbow was set, Folten clambered up a boulder that couldn't have been more than teen feet tall. He took a knee on the flat top of the boulder and waited patiently for his quarry to make their appearance. He could hear the hooves of their three horses coming down the cobblestone pathway. He placed the wood stock into his shoulder and steadied the aim of the long range weapon.

Folten was without a doubt the most devoted member of the Cyrodiilian branch of the Dark Brotherhood. An assassin unequaled in efficiency and technique, Folten was as skilled as they come. He preferred to fight from afar with a bow or throwing knives, but could just as easily kill with a blade or poison. The people he killed almost never saw Folten coming, and he liked it that way…

* * *

Although she didn't exactly ask for it to be told, Mara was actually enjoyed listening to Reli talk about her family. Mara still wasn't feeling very cheery, especially in regards to their Dunmer companion, so the conversation was a nice distraction. The Imperial was also glad that she was willingly straddling the saddle she rode instead of hog-tied to it like earlier.

"They're a bunch of lunatics," Reli said, speaking of her relatives, "but I love 'em." She looked to her brother who rode directly ahead of them. "I even love the shrimp over there."

"I love you two, Reli," Ansen said with a laugh.

"Hey, Ansen, y'know I ran into Vanity while I was in Skyrim?"

"Really? Little lady Vanity? Is she still conceted?"

"Yes, but not as much as when we were young. She's actually taken over her father's smith."

"I wouldn't have expected that from Vanity."

Sindell and his horse took up the rear of the trio, ever watchful of his surroundings. He didn't have his nose in a book this time, a little more aware of what was going on around them. He was so very tired of this particular assignment and was just ready to get back and get paid his twenty-five hundred Septims, plus the bonus he was owed for finding Varris' daughter.

As he sat alone in his thoughts, Sindell noticed the man. He was deep in the thick of the forest to their left, sitting atop a boulder. He almost _didn't_ see the man over there, aiming a crossbow in their direction. Sindell followed the Dunmer's line of sight and saw that he was aiming right at Reli's horse. Sindell quickly snapped his horse's reins, moving himself in between the man and Reli and Mara just as the crossbow bolt was fired.

As fast as he could, Sindell cast flame, attempting to disintegrate what he thought was a wooden bolt. The steel rod past through the magical fire, and grazed Sindell's arm, cutting through the robes he wore.

Sindell drew his mace and announced the presence of their attacker. Folten quickly strung his bow again and jumped onto the back of Shadowmere, trying to catch up with the group as they rode away. He fired another arrow at Mara, but it missed its intended target, her neck, by just a few degrees.

With a wave of his hand, Folten ignited the road in magical fire. The three horses quickly changed direction and ran off the right side of the path, into the woodland. Folten rode to where he had a clear line of sight to the trio and fired a single bolt into the horse that carried Mara and Reli. The bolt pierced the animal's neck and it took an involuntary dive to the dirt, throwing Mara and Reli from its back in the process.

The female Nord's muscles knew what to do before her brain even told them, and she rolled to her feet, coming to a grinding halt on the heels of her boots. Axes already in hand, she shielded Mara's body with her own as the black and red-eyed horse the assassin rode barreled toward them. Like lightning, Ansen let an arrow fly at Folten. It didn't hit, but it got the man's attention.

As Folten fired a third bolt, Sindell realized that his armor wasn't that of a simple bandit. He immediately recognized it as the Dark Brotherhood's as Ansen's horse died from a bolt to the neck. He had enough experience with assassins to know one when he saw him.

Jumping from his horse, Sindell hurled his mace into Folten's chest, knocking him from his mount. The assassin landed on his feet, ignoring the crack in his leather cuirass and the pain in his ribs. He slipped another bolt into his crossbow and aimed past Sindell at Mara.

The wily Sparrow veteran roared and hurled a spike made of ice from his hand toward the fellow Dunmer. With grace Folten sidestepped the flying piece of frost and drew a curved dagger. Sindell quickly glanced back at Mara as he squared off with the man, noticing she was holding her ankle, eyes shut in pain. She must've re-injured it when she fell from the horse.

Sindell just barely jerked his head back in time to dodge the the dagger that came for his throat and dashed past Folten, snatching his mace up from the grace. He cast another ice spike at Folten's back, but the man swivled aroundand deflected it with a twist of his dagger. Sindell constantly found his opponent's eyes falling to Mara, sitting over by Reli in excrutiating pain. The man's target was obvious.

"Ansen, Reli, get Mara out of here!" Sindell ordered, he and Folten dancing around each others attacks.

"What about you?" Ansen asked.

"Let's let the man work, Ansen," Reli told her brother.

Reli ducked the stream of electricity that burst from the thick of the wood and turned on a dime, so as to face their new attacker. To her surprise, a storm atronach floated its way toward them from by the river, an amalamation of different colored rocks and stones teathered together by strings of electricity. "Ansen, on your right!" Reli called.

"Take Mara. I'll cover you," Ansen said, quickly drawing an arrow and dropping to one knee.

Reli walked to Mara and knelt down so she could ride piggy-back. Once the woman had a good hold of Mara, she stood and started to run with Ansen behind her. The atronach began following them and Sindell was about to stop the creature, but Folten stepped in his path.

"Dammit! Step aside!"

The man didn't respond, just stood in the Silver Sparrow's way. They wanted to separate him from the others, and probably Mara specifically, which meant that more than likely Ansen and Reli were walking into a trap…

* * *

Ansen fired another arrow at the Daedric monstrosity, but it seemed to just bounce off of the creature's stone body. The stream of electricity that shot from its chest hit an oak tree just to the left of Reli. She ran as fast as she could while carrying Mara whose arms were tightly wrapped around her neck.

"You're kinda' squeezing the life out of me, darling," Reli told Mara. "Depriving me of oxygen."

"Sorry."

Reli didn't see him until the very last second, when she could just barely react. The Breton fell from the tree right above her, short sword in hand. Reli sprung backward and planted a boot in the shorter man's chest.

"They're falling from the damned sky?" Reli asked, only partly joking.

The Breton man began to cackle as he swung his blade at Reli. The woman's fingers dug into the skin of Mara's thighs as she backed away and side-stepped. "My dearest mother wishes her dead, and she shall die!" the apparently psychotic man said. "Not a single tear will be shed when she is gone, no one will cry! Just to let you know, I like pie!"

Ansen turned on a dime when he saw the man coming for his sister out of the corner of his eye. He let an arrow go into the rhyming assassin's leg, piercing him in his upper thigh.

"Run, Reli!" Ansen told his sister. "I'll be right behind you."

"Liar!" Reli said, sitting Mara down on the ground. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"Fine. You take the Daedra; I'll get the asylum escapee."

Mara stood and tried to hobble away from the battle as magic streaked through the air and steel clashed. She kept her eyes to the ground, making sure her footing was reliable as she walked and, not paying attention to where she was going, bumped into someone. Her eyes rose to see a Breton woman standing before her, wearing the same type of garb as the other assassins, red and black painted leather armor.

The Imperial screamed and fell back onto her rear, staring up at the woman that stood before her. "Going somewhere?" the Breton asked.

Mara raised her hand and cast fear on the woman, hoping to do enough temporary mental damage to give her time to escape. The woman shrugged off the illusion spell and took a purposeful step toward Mara.

"Your little tricks won't work on me…" the woman said.

A large, humanoid Daedra of some sort stood behind her, holding a long black greatsword. As a hobby Mara used to read books about the otherworldly creatures and recognized it, with the dark blue skin, red hair, horns jutting from its head and light armor configuration, as a Daedric Xivilai. The beast wore nothing but some type of cloth on its lower body and bands around its wrists and ankles.

"Our father has ordered your death, Mara Addevicci…"

"Ansen, Sindell!" Mara desperately called out, praying to the divines that one of the Sparrows were near.

"Kill her Avox."

The Xivilai obeyed and approached, towerin over Mara, holding its blade still beside her neck. This was it, wasn't it? Mara always thought she'd die of old age, in her home. But no, she would die by the hands of a monster freed from the plane of Oblivion it belonged to…

She heard a the hurried sound of boots stamping against the grass and looked back to see Reli bursting into the clearing. The woman quickly delivered a sharp kick to the Xivilai's skull, whiping its head awkwardly. That kick would've killed any normal man, broken his neck, but obviously this was no man and it was far from normal.

Nethan just took a step back and watched as Reli engaged the Daedric warrior, clashing blades with the creature. Mara still sat in shock of how very close she was to death just seconds ago, unable to move from her lying position, held up by her elbows.

The oldest child of the Black Nightmare cringed as the greatsword, with a single hand, was thrust of into the edge of her side, releasing a steady flow of cimson liquid. Before Reli could counter attack, with the agility of a rogue, the Xivilai backed away from her with a series of perfectly balanced steps.

He was much too graceful for his size. Reli knew he also had the reach advantage with that long blade, an advantage that she would undoubtedly have trouble working her way around. Then she figured if the assassin standing by watching the duel was the one that brought the creature into this plane, her death would drive it back to Oblivion. Now Reli just had to figure out a way to…

Lightheadedness suddenly struck her and Reli collapsed to one knee. She was dizzy, unable to hold her own weight up any longer. Reli was smart enough to know that she was poisoned by the blade that barely cut her, but what kind of poison and the effects it would have on her was a mystery.

"Damn you…" Reli mumbled as she tried to stand.

"Stop playing Avox. Kill the both of them," the assassin ordered.

The Xivilai took a step toward Reli, but the Nord still had fight in her. From her kneeling position, she swung on him with the last of her strength. With a turn of his blade, Avox blocked the weak attack and knocked Reli back with a knee to the chest.

"Run you idiot!" Reli shouted.

It took a few seconds, but Mara eventually realized who Reli was addressing. She turned over onto her hands and knees and crawled back toward the tree-line. Nethan slowly, walked beside Mara s she crawled and, when she grew tired of watching the girl squirm, placed her foot onto her back and pushed Mara down to the dirt.

"Don't worry, it's almost over…" she assured Mara.

Mara looked back at Reli just as Avox thrust the tip of his greatsword into her belly, through to the other side of her well-muscled body. Unable to do anything else, Reli screamed.

* * *

The storm atronach finally fell with one last swing of Ansen's sword. Smoke rose from the torso of his armor where'd he'd been struck by one of the electrical attacks. The young man had used every last one of his arrows on that creature and was resorted to stabbing it with his short blade.

With a huff, he looked over his shoulder to check on his sister, but she was nowhere to be found. The only thing he saw was the beaten and bleeding assassin lying in the dirt.

"Why didn't she kill him?" Ansen asked himself. He craned his head around, looking for any sign of his older sister.

Sindell was coming from the direction of the road, already appearing to be in a bad mood. Ansen looked to him and asked, "You killed your assassin?"

"No. He ran. Where did Mara and your sister go?"

Ansen shrugged. That's when the blood curdling screaming hit their ears, sending shivers up and down Ansen's spine. He knew the voice all too well, and the feeling of despair and urgency he suddenly felt was beyond anything he'd ever felt in his life before.

"Was that-"

"Reli!" Ansen hollered, taking off in the direction of the shriek.

Not once in his life had he heard his sister scream. Ansen actually thought it wasn't possible for her to do so. She was the very toughest person he knew, other than their illustrious father of course, and never allowed herself to make such noises, to give her enemy the satisfaction of knowing she was in pain.

The young Sparrow flew through the forest, almost as fast as the Cyrodiilian birds that the group was named after. Nothing could impede him at this point. Ansen wouldn't be stopped until he found his sister.

The thoughts began to run through his mind. Why was she screaming? Who was hurting her? What would he do when he found her? What if she was dead?

Ansen burst from the tree line to the small field and saw his sister lying on the green grass, a pool of red beneath her unmoving form. He'd seen her bleed before, but never this much. Even when Reli was defeated, which was a rarity, she never ceased slinging insults at her opponent, never stopped fighting, despite her body being unable to continue a battle. The never-quit attitude was in her blood, sewn in her genetic make-up.

But now was different. She wasn't fighting, wasn't back-talking, calling the assassin that stood above her names that not even the shortest-tempered sailor would slur. She just lay there, head facing away from Ansen.

Sindell finally caught up to the younger man at the edge of the field. His eyes quickly scanned the environment, taking into accounting all the different variables and possible dangers; the narrow bodied assassin standing over Reli, the high-ranking Daedra beside her who was wiping blood away from the greatsword it held.

Mara, who lay beneath the assassin's boot, seemed to be unharmed. Through tear-filled eyes, she looked to Ansen and Sindell. The Dunmer knew he had to make a move, but if Reli fell to the Daedra, then he would definitely have to be careful with the creature. Reli was one of the Sparrow's best combatants in Cyrodiil and wasn't easily beaten.

Sindell began to devise a plan of attack, a way to get the two women to safety. He glanced quickly at Ansen, who had a blank expression strewn across his face.

"Ansen. Snap out of it. We need to get to Mara and Reli, and I'm gonna' need your h-"

The Imperial-Nord took off, barreling toward the assassin and her companion. The assassin quickly drew a dagger, identical to the ones that the other two assailants carried, and placed the tip to the back of Mara's head, mumbling, "Let's get this over with…"

The Daedra stepped in Ansen's path, holding its long blade single-handedly. When the rogue saw the blood dripping from the tip of the weapon, he decided the Xivilai was his target. Ansen leveled his sword, blocking the vertical swing of the claymore, and slightly twisted his blade, deflecting the attack. Unexpectedly, Ansen ran his fist across Avox's chin while his guard was down, producing a satisfying "crack".

Nethan, a little distracted by Avox being knocked off balance, hadn't sunk her knife into Mara. Sindell took that as an opportunity. From across the field he cast telekinesis, lifting one of Reli's fallen axes with his mind and hurling it at Nethan. The blade struck her in the shoulder, and her hold on Avox weakened briefly. When it did, the Daedra hesitated in its attack on Ansen, and the Sparrow drove his sword into its chest, where a living beings heart would be.

Nethan pulled the axe from her arm as Avox fell, a bitter taste in her mouth. Never once in her time as an assassin had someone gotten the better of her, even for a moment. She summoned two flame atronachs and scowled at the duo.

Before anyone made another move, they heard a loud sound, like nails on a chalkboard. Sindell looked up to where the sound came from, at the two cliffracers descending from out of the clouds. Before they even touched down, Warren jumped from the back of the reptile he rode and landed. His steel axe, enchanted with an extremely powerful frost spell, seemed to glow white in his hands.

His sorrow filled eyes fell to his daughter, lying before him. They then went to the assassin. Nethan was outnumbered at this point, figuring it best to leave while she was still able. A bright white light shone in the girl's hand, blinding all around her. When Sindell's eyes finally readjusted, the spots in his vision slowly fading, the assassin was already gone, and so were her Daedric pets.

Talia stepped off of her cliffracer and frowned. "Forget her, we've got more important things to worry about," she said.

She ran quickly over to Reli, looking in Mara's direction to make sure she was fine. Talia slid to a halt beside Reli's body, placing two fingers to the young woman's pale skinned neck. She felt no pulse.

"Sindell, do you know any restoration spells?" Talia asked.

Sindell hesitated to response, surprised by Talia's appearance. He recomposed himself and said, "Weak ones, yes…"

"It'll have to do. Varris help Sindell close Reli's wound," the Imperial spell caster commanded.

"A-alright!"

The merchant ran over, taking a kneeling position and placing both of his hands to where the greatsword pierced Mara's skin. Sindell did the same and the two of them began casting the strongest healing spells they knew. In the meanwhile, Talia began to cast Revive, one of the most powerful restoration spells one was able to cast, usually used by healers when a patient is on death's door.

Warren stood behind Talia, helpless. "Can … you save her?"

Talia didn't respond.

"Talia?"

"Let me concentrate, Warren! This is a very delicate spell."

Talia already knew that the chances of Reli surviving were slim-to-none, and closer to none than slim. Even so, she couldn't let Warren's only daughter die without doing _something_. She continued to cast silently.

After three minutes of continuous casting, Talia ran out of magicka and she allowed her hands to fall. Sindell and Varris stopped casting as well.

"That's it," Talia said somberly. She leaned over and kissed Reli's forehead, whispering an apology.

Talia didn't want to look at Warren or Ansen. She couldn't look them in the eye, not after what she just allowed to happen.

Warren sighed deep, feeling more defeated than he ever had. "She'll be buried in Skyrim…"

Mara and Ansen were the only ones shedding tears for the fallen Nord. Warren wept within for his daughter. Silently, Ansen made a vow, a vow to finish this assignment and kill those who hired the assassins. He swore, kneeling in a puddle of his kin's blood.

* * *

"Who is this girl really, Talia?" Warren asked.

His horse led the caravan of steeds that headed north through the Pale Pass, the mountains that separated Cyrodiil from Skyrim, with the carriage that carried Mara's body taking up the rear of the cavalcade. Both Ansen and Sindell rode alongside the paint horse that Warren and Talia shared. The Dunmer accompanied the Black-Hearts in order to pay his respects to his friend's child. He wished he could've done more, but paying his respects was about Sindell was able to do to comfort the family.

"Who is this Mara Addevicci? Or is that not her real name?"

Talia wrapped her hands around Warren's chest and rested her head against his shoulder. "Warren, I … I don't even think I know…" she responded honestly, shutting her eyes. "It would be better if Varris explained the whole thing…"

Warren turned around and raised a question eyebrow. Varris rode alongside them with Mara. The merchant averted his gaze as the Nord looked upon him. Mara looked to him as well. "Explain what?" Mara asked her "father".

"Well, I guess it's time the truth came out…" Varris said, reluctance hanging in his tone. "Mara, I know you've had your suspicions about it, what with me not willing to talk about your mother. You should know that I'm not your father. I'm just the man that was given the role of your guardian."

"Wha-"

"Let me finish," Varris stopped her. "In my youth, I was a simple servant of your parents, Arthae and Gabriella Cane, two Imperial nobles that lived here in Cyrodiil. When they had you, they were ecstatic, the happiest I've ever seen them. They loved you very much."

Mara was surprisingly silent during Varris' tale. "You've still yet to explain whose trying to kill her," Sindell said.

"Well, a week after Mara was born she fell ill, to the point where she was near death. Arthae called in a healer to try and save her. In addition to bringing Mara back from the abyss, the woman placed a special mark on her chest, saying it will protect you. Her parents thought nothing of the mark until a year later, a cult began coming after her."

"Why did they want Mara so badly?" Warren asked.

"I don't know, but when this cult learned of this mark, they came to her parent's home and attempted to take the girl. It was a good thing that Arthae was a warrior when he was young – I believe I once saw a sash in their closet with the Silver Sparrow's stitching in it. Arthae and his loyal dog fought attempted to fight off the attackers, but eventually fell. Gabriella, too injured by the cultists to take Mara herself, thrust her child into my arms and told me to flee with her. And I did just that…"

"So, eighteen years later, after you changed her name, they've found Mara again," Warren said.

"Why exactly are you following us?" Sindell inquired finally. "We are not the girl's protectors anymore. We've done all you asked. She's not the Sparrow's responsibility."

"That's where you're wrong. I'm willing to pay the Sparrows twenty-five thousand septims if you take Mara to Skyrim with you. Maybe she can get away from these people in the land of the Nords…"

Sindell looked to Warren, the Nord deep in thought.

"We'll do it," Ansen answered before his father. "Reli would've wanted us to see this thing through 'til the end."

Warren sighed. "Well, you heard the man," Ansen's father said.

Varris pulled on his horse's reins, halting the mount. "Get off, Mara. I'm not going with you."

"Why?" she was just barely able to ask, still in shock of what she was just told.

"I still have things that I need to do here."

Reluctantly Mara stepped off of the horse and took a step back. "Dad."

"It's been a pleasure serving you, lady Cane. Good luck in Skyrim…"

Varris turned his horse around and rode off. Mara watched the man that'd been her father all her life leave, a wave of different emotions washing over her. Sindell reached down to her and said, "Come on. Let's get going."

With even more reluctance, glancing back at Varris, Mara accepted his hand and Sindell pulled her up onto his horse. The cavalcade continued through the Pale Pass, on their way to the Fatherland, the snowy province of Skyrim.

* * *

"Why does the girl still live?"

Nethan cringed at the Nightmother's scolding words. She sat on the edge of the desk, playing with the dagger in her hand. Nethan balanced the blade by the tip on her index finger.

"I'm sorry. Things got a little crowded," Nethan said.

"That is no excuse! I ordered you to kill the girl, yet she still breathes. You disappoint me, Listener."

"Then why don't _you_ kill her, dear Nightmother? Because that is our job, correct? It's not like you can relay this contract to another assassin since there are no others in Cyrodiil with the Imperial Legion raiding sanctuaries all over the province. Ours is one of the only groups left in the province, besides Malvoy's and I'm the only one that can hear you so it seems as if you're stuck with me."

An awkward silence hung in the air.

"She's bound for the land of the Nords. I want her head on a platter, Listener. Make it so," the Nightmother's whispery voice said. "Or there _will_ be consequences."

The room grew silent once again and Nethan drove her dagger into the desk all the way to the hilt. This girl and her protectors made a fool of Nethan in front of the Nightmother, and she couldn't have the other members of the Dark Brotherhood hearing about this little failure. Nethan grit her teeth. "Folten!"

The Dark Elf appeared rather quickly, in her office. "Ma'am?"

"Assemble a team. We're going to Skyrim. I don't care which of our brothers and sister you choose from, as long as they're good."

"How many would you like assembled?"

"Three."

"As you wish," Folten said as Nethan let her cloth robe fall from her body.

Pain shot up her back as the clothing brushed against the recently closed wound on her shoulder. She hated this. The Dark Brotherhood was still in total disarray, years and years after the fall of Lucien Lachance. The Black Hand council was no more; the only Speaker that was left was Malvoy in Cheydinhal and Nethan's own Dunmer lifesaver. The Brotherhood was a dwindling twenty members all together.

On top of all of that the captains of the city guard, for the past several years were more aggressively pinning down sanctuaries and arresting, or killing, their leaders. Three Speakers and their Silencers, along with most of the assassins that called the different sanctuaries their home, were now dead.

Nethan now had no choice but to bare her pain and put her armor back on. She had to visit Varris Addevicci so they could have a little talk about his daughter.

**{That's the end of part one. I hope you enjoyed it.}**


	10. Part II - Blood

He'd read the words upon the tombstone, still disbelieving in this reality, praying this bad dream would finally end. The Imperial-Nord shook the snow from the shoulders of his heavy coat, letting it fall to the ground below, the cold feeling as though it was penetrating his bones. Still, the cold was nothing compared to the pain he felt in his chest, like someone had reached in and taken a piece of him away.

Reli was gone, and even though he was surrounded family in Skyrim, Ansen still didn't feel as if he were home. They all looked at him with disdain, the Black Nightmare's walking mistake. Not only did Ansen have to endure the burial of his only sister, but he had to deal with his family.

Ansen turned when he heard the sound of boots trudging through the snow. His uncle, Dathus, was walking his way up to the Black-Heart graveyard, a bottle of mead in his right hand. The middle aged man was a little on the short side, at least compared to the other Nords in the Black-Heart clan, with shaven blonde hair and no facial hair. Dathus was the only Black-Heart, besides Ansen's father and Reli that genuinely seemed to care for him.

"You might be half Nord, boy, but that doesn't mean the cold won't put you down like a dog," Dathus said, tossing the bottle to Ansen without warning.

Ansen caught the bottle by the neck and pulled the cork with his teeth. Before bringing the neck to his mouth, Ansen read the label and snickered. "Honey mead?"

"You'll like it," Dathus said. He stood beside Ansen at the grave and sighed as the younger man drank half of the bottle. "Standing out here in the cold won't bring our girl back to life, Ansen."

"I know, uncle, but…"

"You just can't leave her. I know the feeling, but eventually you've got to let her be, allow her to travel to Sovngarde."

Ansen swallowed the entire bottle of mead and placed his hand on the tombstone. "I should've done more for her, uncle. I should've saved her."

"According to Mara's account, you did all you could."

"It wasn't enough."

"Y'know, I've learned that everyone will lose someone close to them eventually. It's how you take it that defines what kind of man you'll become, Ansen. This will either make you stronger, or it'll break you. Don't let it break you."

There was nothing else that Dathus could say to the young man. He needed to get through the rest of this ordeal on his own. The older Sparrow knew about loss all too well, and knew how hard it was to get through, but he also knew that Ansen was a Black-Heart.

Dathus turned back to the road and started back toward Solitude, which was just a short mile away. "Let's head back to the Nest before we're buried in snow."

Ansen sighed, feeling defeated, and followed behind his uncle. He wasn't able to stare at the grave any more, not without getting angry or sad again. Though he knew Dathus was right, that he shouldn't let this break him, Ansen was still going to find the people that were responsible. It was a promise he made to himself, and to Reli.

* * *

Sindell sat in Black-Heart manor, his face buried in The Rear Guard, a book he'd picked up from a merchant they'd past on their way to Skyrim. The elf glanced up to the rest of the bar that was settled in the basement of the enormous building, smoke and the smell of liquor filling the air. Nords of all shapes and sizes were sitting, drinking, and clanking their tankards together in mourning of the loss their family just received.

It wasn't his first time being around the Black-Hearts in their environment, but they never ceased to amaze him. Instead of wallowing in their misery, the Black-Hearts celebrated the life of the deceased, something that Dunmer rarely did. At least not in the same way the Nords celebrated.

Warren took a seat beside Sindell and slammed a tankard overflowing with mead down on the round table. "Here, Sindell. You haven't had anything to drink all night!" Warren said, placing a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "You can't have a good time unless you're completely drunk."

"Apparently that's the rule of _your_ family." Sindell sat the book down and took up the tankard. As he sipped the strong, fermented beverage, out of the corner of his eye, Sindell watched Mara. The woman sat at the bar at the back of the room, alone, staring down at her hands. He'd been keeping a very close eye on the girl since their arrival, never once allowing her to actually leave his presence.

Sindell sipped a bit of the mead and said, "I'm tired, old friend…"

"I am too," Warren replied, easing into the chair and locking his fingers together.

"I'm sorry about Reli."

"She died as a warrior. That's what she would've wanted."

"I know."

There was a long relaxed silence before either of them spoke again. "What are you going to do about the girl?" Warren asked.

After taking another, noticeably longer, swig of mead, Sindell answered. "I haven't decided. I might take her to Morrowind; it's a little safer there considering I know the territory."

"You knew it twenty years ago. Who knows what Morrowind is like nowadays?"

Sindell laughed. "You're right. Remember the days when you and I were both rookies, just getting started in the mercenary business?"

"My father sent me to Morrowind to help finish the establishing of the Western branch of the Silver Sparrows."

"You were pretty wild back then, Warren."

"You mean when I killed those four Nix Hounds and saved your life? Wild might not be the right word for that," Warren laughed, reminded of his old reckless ways. "Foolish, maybe."

"I really _do_ owe you a lot, Warren."

"Likewise, old friend."

Sindell stiffened in his seat and said, "I'd probably be dead if not for you. That's why I wish I could've-"

"Don't. You've done more than enough for me, Sindell."

Berta, one of Warren's nieces, burst into the bar, wearing a look of glee. She jumped up on top of the table where Warren and Sindell sat and smiled. "Everyone come outside! My brother is about to kill little Ansen!"

* * *

Mikal was taller than Ansen, more muscular, and had a considerable weight advantage. The Imperial-Nord stared up at his cousin, amused at the sudden challenge. Mikal always had a problem with Ansen, but Reli never let him touch her little brother. Apparently now that she was gone, Mikal had free rein to do whatever he pleased.

The mountain of man had short-blonde hair, much like his father Dathus and his younger sister Berta. His nose was crooked due to being broken in one of the many scuffles Mikal often found himself in, and a solid chin helped to anchor his face. His chest was puffed out in that classic Black-Heart pride as he methodically secured a cestus to his right hand.

Ansen glanced over at Dathus sitting on the fence that surrounded the Black-Heart manor backyard. The man felt no need to intervene in this little family dispute, but he did want to watch.

"Why do this, Mikal?" Ansen asked.

"Everyone's saying that you allowed the assassin that killed Reli to escape…" Mikal said, throwing a few practice punches at the air. "You don't deserve to wear the Black-Heart name, and Reli was the only thing that was keeping you tethered to it. But things are different now. You're being exiled."

Ansen chuckled as other members of the family began to funnel out of the house. "Who ordered this exiling?"

"I did."

"Well, Mikal, I won't go, so it looks like you'll have to use force…"

"That won't be a problem."

The backyard was now filled with Black-Hearts, all of them forming a circle around the two young men. Ansen could see Sindell, Mara, Talia and his father looking on from deep within the crowd, but still didn't really care that they were watching. He wasn't going to back down from Mikal.

"Are you ready?" Mikal asked, punching his palm.

"Beat his ass, Mikal!" Berta screamed from the head of the crowd.

Mikal slowly approached Ansen, grinning from ear-to-ear. Ansen began bouncing on the balls of his feet, and when the larger man threw his first punch, he easily swayed out of the way. But, unexpectedly, he swayed right into a knee that drilled him in the ribs.

Mara cringed just watching the painful looking blow, figuring this fight wasn't going to go well for Ansen. The Imperial-Nord, to everyone's surprise, except for Dathus and Warren, bore with the pain of his probably broken rib and wrapped his right arm around Mikal's leg before he could retract it from Ansen's side. The smaller man then threw a devastating left hook to Mikal's jaw.

While his opponent was stunned, Ansen took a pained step back, ran forward and drove both of his feet into Mikal's chest with a drop-kick. Landing with a thud, Ansen gasped at the pain shooting through his body. The boot that was soon planted in his chest didn't help relieve the pain either.

Ansen stared up at Mikal, a victorious grin decorating his face. The large, aggressive Nord removed the boot from his chest and took two steps back.

"Get up. I'm not done with you yet."

Gritting his teeth, Ansen stood as Mikal's brothers and sisters mocked him. He paid no attention to his cousin's mockery and dusted himself off. There wasn't an ounce of self-doubt present in Mikal's as he waited patiently for Ansen to come at him again.

"Look at him," Mikal said, glancing around at his kin. "He's weak! I told you all that he wasn't worthy of _our_ name!"

"And what makes you so worthy, Mikal? The fact that you're pure Nord? You're no better than me…"

"Don't you ever compare the two of us!"

As Ansen intended, that comment angered the man and he came charging. Ansen ducked the wild swing of Mikal's right hand and delivered sharp kick to the back of his knee. When Mikal buckled slightly, Ansen wrapped his right arm around Mikal's neck and applied pressure, constricting his windpipe. Mikal threw repeated elbows into Ansen's side until the smaller man broke the hold and spun on his heels, centering the Imperial-Nord in his sights once again.

The hardest punch Ansen had ever felt was delivered to his cheek and followed with an uppercut to the gut. He fell to his knees, clutching at his abdomen. Without a chance to try and recuperate, Ansen was lifted up; Mikal's gloved hand gripping his throat tightly. The two were now eye-to-eye and Ansen took this as an opportunity to throw some fuel onto the proverbial fire.

With no regard for his own wellbeing, he spat in Mikal's face. Ansen got a little kick out of hearing a few of his family members gasp at the insulting act. He could also see out of the corner of his eye Warren and Dathus standing beside each other, laughing.

Ansen was rewarded for the action with an elbow strike to the face, one that nearly knocked him unconscious. Mikal let Ansen's limp body fall from his grasp to the dirt. The coppery taste in the young rogue's mouth only made him want to spit in his cousin's face a second time.

As quickly as he could, which wasn't very considering the world around him was spinning like a top, Ansen rose. He wiped the blood from his lips and inhaled. "Is that it?"

Mikal came rushing toward him, intent on tackling Ansen and drove his shoulder into the Imperial-Nord's stomach. Ansen planted his feet and wrapped one arm around Mikal's chest and the other around his neck. Frustrated, Mikal attempted to lift his opponent straight into the air, but as soon as the smaller man's feet left the ground, Ansen drove a knee into his forehead. The temporarily stunned Mikal let him down, but Ansen didn't release his grip, driving another knee into his skull.

Dathus, while observing the fight, noticed Berta getting restless. She hadn't seemed very worried about her brother until she saw those two knees hit him. When Ansen lifted a third into Mikal's head, Berta drew the dagger she kept at her side and began pushing her way through the crowd.

Quickly, Dathus made his way over and grabbed a tight hold of Berta's arm. "And where do you think you're going?" he asked.

Berta looked up at her father and grimaced. "I-I was just-"

"Do not get involved. Your brother asked for this fight."

"But-"

"I won't repeat myself."

The teen held her head down in disappointment and sheathed her dagger.

Dathus looked back to the fight and saw that Ansen had released Mikal, who now sat on his hands and knees, trying to shake his dizziness off.

"Come on… get up," Ansen said, his chest heaving.

Mikal, slowly but surely stood back up, and faced his cousin. Ansen could tell that his cousin stood on shaky legs, but he couldn't necessarily take advantage because he wasn't exactly balanced himself. Everyone knew this bout would be over soon.

Ansen slowly stepped toward Mikal and threw a right hand at his head, which was easily caught by the slightly older man. Mikal jerked his head back, dodging out of the way of the left hand that came at his face. Before the larger Black-Heart could counter, Ansen struck him across the face with the back of his fist.

Mikal dropped to his knees, his eyes glossy and dazed. He sat like that, unmoving until Ansen pushed him over with his foot. He looked around at his family members, all of them save a few looking on in shock. As Ansen began toward the manor, the crowd parted, allowing him to pass.

As he walked by, Sindell tapped him on the shoulder. "You alright?"

Ansen smiled at him, his teeth bloody. "I'm better than alright."

**R/R**


	11. Hypothermia

"And what are you going to do about this, father? You have to punish him!"

Dathus looked up from his dinner plate at his daughter and smiled.

"I'll do no such thing, Berta. You know that if it was Mikal that was victorious in that fight, you wouldn't be calling for retribution for Ansen's sake.""

"Come on, you have the power to exile Ansen. Don't just sit there; do something!" Berta demanded.

"As I said, your brother asked for a fight and got his ass handed to him. I'm not going to punish the victor just because he was victorious. That is _not_ how our family works, Berta, and you know it," said Dathus, continuing to eat his steak.

Berta stared down at him with discontent. Obviously her staring wasn't having much of an effect on her father, so the girl reluctantly gave up and stomped her way out of the dining hall. Dathus watched her leave and shook his head with a chuckle.

"Don't be too hard on the girl, she's only looking out for her brother. Something I know quite a bit about," Warren reminded him.

Dathus turned to his brother, sitting directly beside him at the long dining table. The rectangular table was able to seat thirty members of the Black-Heart clan comfortably. It could seat forty uncomfortably, which was usually the case in the large manor. After the brutal bout between the two cousins, the family had come back inside the manor to eat supper. Many of them, though, idly spoke of the fight as they devoured their meal.

Dathus and Warren both noticed the chatter floating about the room. Talia approached the two brothers and said, "It seems like the Black-Hearts enjoyed the little show they got…"

"You didn't?" Dathus asked.

"Oh, sure, I love watching my son get beaten half to death…"

"He fared far better than mine!" Dathus laughed.

"Yes, well, have either of you two seen Ansen? He disappeared after the fight and I'm beginning to worry."

"No. He must've gone off on his own," Warren said. "You shouldn't baby him, Talia. Ansen is an adult."

"He's still my son."

"Which you've yet to tell him."

"I'm…" Talia paused. "I'm waiting for the right time."

"You need to tell him, Talia. He has a right to know that his mother's been traveling with him for the past two weeks."

"I said I've been waiting for the right time!"

Warren raised his hands defensively. "I'm only saying he needs to know. I realize you didn't leave by choice. You needn't feel guilty about anything."

Talia grew silent, hanging her head low. "I'll tell him soon," Talia said.

The Imperial woman took a seat in the vacant chair beside Warren and laid her head on the table. Warren gently began to rub here back as she said, "I feel like shit…"

"It wasn't your fault, Talia."

"You're damn right it wasn't! This is all because of my blasted mother and her prophecies."

Dathus tapped his index finger to his chin in thought. "So you've been watching this Mara girl for what, eighteen years now?"

"Eighteen and a half." Talia looked to Warren and the expression of sadness she wore made him look away. "None of this would've happened if I could've gotten to in touch with you sooner, told you not to accept the job from Varris…"

"Think nothing more of it, Talia. You still have a duty that's been past down to you from your mother. You should keep your mind on that, not things that occurred in the past," Warren said. "Why don't you go with Dathus and get some ale? It'll cheer you up."

"The old Nordic medicine. I probably could use some right now…"

Dathus took the hint and stood. "Come on, Talia."

He grabbed a hold of her hand and pulled her from the table. She followed behind as Dathus walked toward the dining hall bar. Once the two were gone, she sat down beside Warren. The woman he'd yet to even speak to since arriving in Skyrim; Warren's wife, Felsi

She was tall, the sides of her red-haired head shaven and the rest of her fiery mane tied in a ponytail. Her fair skin was pale and freckled lightly around her thin nose and across her cheeks, appearing as youthful as the day the two first met. Even under her loose-fitting clothing, one could still tell she her body was still in amazing condition.

Felsi crossed her legs. Her eyes followed Talia as she was dragged around by her brother-in-law. "There's always some form of ruckus when the family gathers."

"Put a bunch of drunken Nordic warriors, merchants, blacksmiths and farmers in a room and a few fists are bound to be thrown. The family isn't what you wanted to talk about, though, is it?"

"I just got a request from a man in Winterhold. Ansen's skill-set makes him perfect for it, and I might need his help."

Warren pushed his plate aside and turned to Felsi. "You think he needs another assignment so soon?"

"I think it'll help him, get his mind off of Reli."

Warren shrugged and shut his eyes. "It's up to Ansen to accept."

Felsi inhaled deeply, the exhaustion of the past few days beginning catching up to her. She was already burning the candle at both ends helping Dathus run the Skyrim Sparrows branch, but then Warren arrived, hauling the body of her only daughter. Felsi hadn't had an ounce of sleep in two days, trying to keep busy.

She probably needed this job just as much as Ansen did…

Neither Dathus nor Warren mentioned anything to Felsi about her sleep deprivation or level of stress, though they knew about it. The brothers knew talking to her about it wasn't going to change her hard working ways.

Felsi rose, stretched her back. She left the dining hall, hands in her pocket, in search of Ansen.

* * *

Lilly's hammer came down on the sword, bending the steel to her whim. She hammered the blade, carefully shaping it to the specifications of the customer. They'd ordered a blade with a sharply serrated edge and a grooved handle wrapped in leather for a more comfortable grip.

It was one of the most complex orders that she'd received to date, and Lilly had the forge going nonstop just to try and fill it, but she didn't flinch, not at the fact that the man had come back the following day and asked her to make an additional three identical swords and not at the searing heat that radiated from the forge.

Her mentor, Aglaise, had left the Gale forge which lay a mile east of the old Black-Heart graveyard to go and pick up a few ingots from the mine up the road so it was just Lilly, her hammer and her chisel. Lilly actually never wanted to inherit her father's smith, but when the man passed away, she reluctantly began studying under his good friend. It turned out to be an enjoyable experience, bending the usually powerful substances into any shape she wished.

The young woman was so very entranced in her work that she almost didn't notice the knocking at the front door. Hurriedly Lilly ran to the front of the house, tossing off her gloves and her apron. She pulled the handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her brow as she opened the front door.

"May I help you?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. Can Vanity come out to play?"

Lilly furrowed her brow and placed her hand on her hip. "Excuse me?" she asked. Vanity was Lilly old nickname, but she hadn't been called by it in years and there were only a select few that called her that. "Who're you?"

"You don't recognize me? I'm hurt Lillian…"

"Listen, I'm busy, so-" Lilly stopped in mid-sentence and her jaw fell. "Ansen? Ansen?!"

She quickly wrapped her arms around her old friend and squeezed him tight. The last time Lilly saw Ansen was when he visited Skyrim with his father four years ago. "Miss me, Lil?"

"By the gods, I almost didn't recognize you! You've let your hair grow out, grown a little beard…" Lilly said, running her hand across Ansen's face.

"Yeah, well you don't look the same either," Ansen said.

Lillian still had a gorgeous slim body and a smile that could melt ice. She had brown, chocolate colored skin that was near flawless and silvery eyes. Her short, shoulder length black hair was concealed by a bandana she tied to keep her hair clear of the heat she would be working with.

Lilly noticed the Sparrow sewn into Ansen's armor and said, "I'm guessing since you're wearing the crest, they finally let you in the group?"

"Of course. I'm the best merc in Nirn."

Lilly stepped aside, allowing Ansen to step into her home and said, "Alright, don't get an ego, Ansen."

"It's _far_ too late for that, lady Vanity."

"So, what're you doing in the Fatherland?" she asked, walking to the kitchen. "On a job?"

"No."

As Ansen relayed why he was in Skyrim to Lilly, she dropped the two bottles of mead she was carrying in hand. The two glasses came down to the floor with a crash, spilling their contents. She stared at him, tears welling in her eyes, her hand over her mouth.

"Reli…" she whispered. "Tell me you're joking…"

Ansen just held his head down, nodding.

"Talos…" She collapsed onto the bench Ansen occupied.

"Reli, another Sparrow and I were doing a job when we were attacked by assassins. They separated us and…"

"I'm so sorry, Ansen." Lilly hugged Ansen sympathetically. She'd known Reli for many years, probably as long as she'd known Ansen, a lot of people in Solitude knew Reli. She was the "big sister" of most of the kids around Ansen's age living in Solitude.

"They already had the funeral," Ansen told her. "I just thought I'd come over and tell you what happened."

"Just … just let me know if you or your family needs anything, okay?"

"Thanks, Lil." Ansen pat her on the back and said, "Come on, no more tears. We should celebrate not weep. Where's the mead?"

Lilly wiped her eyes and stood. "Yeah. I'll go get some more."

A sudden knocking at the door stopped her from getting their drinks. Lilly strode over and opened the door. "Mrs. Black-Heart? Wha-"

"Felsi is fine, dear," the redhead said, walking her way into the Gale household. "Uh … come in?"

"Ansen, I received a request and you came to mind," Fesli said.

"But I'm already on a job."

"Sindell can baby-sit Mara on his own for a while. Right now I need you to help me with this," Felsi said.

The woman always intimidated Ansen, even now as an adult. She was demanding, aggressive and just plain frightening at times. He also never felt comfortable around her, considering the circumstances under his birth. Felsi never seemed to care that he was someone else's child just, though.

"What's the job?" Ansen asked.

"A bounty has been placed on the head of a professor that fled from the College of Winterhold. When he left he took with him a book, one that the college wants back very badly."

Ansen's brow furrowed in thought. "So, a normal kill-or-capture but in addition we need to get the book back-"

"In one piece."

"What's the catch?" Ansen asked disbelievingly. "The last time I agreed to a job that was simple on the surface-"

"I wasn't done explaining. One of the other instructors at the school told me that several of the rogue professor's students left with him. All of them are apparently talented spellcasters."

Ansen clapped his hands together. "There's the complexity I was looking for!"

"So you'll help me with this one?"

Ansen looked to Lilly, then back to Felsi. The Redguard touched his shoulder and said, "It's alright. I've got to get back to work anyway."

Ansen stood and nodded to Lilly. "Alright then. Let's go, Felsi. Make sure you stop by the manor sometime this week, alright Lil?"

"Okay. Be careful."

* * *

It wasn't easy, but Mara was finally able to lose Sindell. She knew that wandering around the rocky wilderness of Haafingar wasn't a good idea, but Mara needed to get away. From the crowded Black-Heart Manor, the markets of Solitude, and the entirety of the capital in general.

She'd lost her protector in the alleys of Solitude, ducking in and out until he had no idea which way she went and Mara hadn't felt so free in weeks. She brushed the few strands of dark hair that fell before her eyes away and continued her trek through the forest. The pine trees around towered above her, high into the sky, dotted with bright shining stars.

The collective howl of a wolf pack reached Mara's ears and she stopped walking, listening to their song. She didn't stand for long though, since the wolves did sound closer than was comfortable for her.

It wasn't long ago that Mara was wishing for a little adventure in her life. Now she wished things were just as they were before she met the Silver Sparrows. She wanted her boring life back, where she was just sitting at home, scribbling Daedra on parchment in her room. It was easier.

Mara hated herself for not even speaking to Ansen once since Reli died. She felt like she should've said something to him – it was his sister that sacrificed herself just so Mara could live. But Mara had no idea what she could tell him that would offer some comfort and doubted there was anything that would actually comfort him.

So lost in her own thoughts, it was a while before Mara realized just how long she'd been walking. She looked around, hoping to find a landmark or something that would assist her in finding her way back to the road. Before she could, she heard the breaking of twigs at her rear.

Mara spun around on her heels to see a pair of wolves standing behind her, crouched low. They peered at her, baring their fangs. The beasts were large, larger than any dog, with dark grey fur, stained with blood. Mara then noticed the deer they were feasting on and realized she'd interrupted their meal.

She took two tentative steps back, and the duo took two forward, growling through their teeth, breath visible in the cold air. As quickly as she could, Mara turned and ran, not even caring where she was going, as long as it was away from the carnivores. She sped through the forest, the wolves nipping at her heels.

She stopped at the edge of the forest when she saw a frozen lake before her. The ice atop the water didn't look even close to being strong enough to support her weight, and under any normal circumstances she'd go nowhere near the frozen body of water. She really had no choice but to trek across the lake when the wolves emerged from the brush.

Mara took a rather clumsy first step onto the ice, slipping slightly before regaining her balance and continuing. She glanced back to see if the beasts were pursuing, and much to her relief, they weren't. They just stood at the edge of the lake, watching her.

Just when Mara was beginning to get confident in her footing, the ice beneath her broke. She was engulfed in water so cold that it pained and numbed her body at the same time. Mara struggled to get back to the surface, fighting for her life against the water, knowing she had never been a very good swimmer. Making little progress, she shed her heavy fur coat, trying desperately to survive.

She wasn't moving fast enough. Mara's breath was quickly running out and she swam harder. Eventually though, she inhaled, taking in water instead of the air her body craved. Slowly, Mara sank into the blackness of the lake, hoping for someone to come and save her. Just before she lost consciousness she could see her savior diving into the freezing cold water after her.

That was the last thing she saw before everything went dark…

* * *

Sindell cursed Mara's name. The girl was becoming more trouble than the gold he was being paid would be worth. There didn't seem to be any lengths she would go to just to rid herself of him. He almost wanted to let her wander around on her own, and would probably let her if it was daylight, but when the nocturnal creatures emerge, the wilderness of Skyrim becomes even more dangerous. He needed to find her.

As he finished his walk around Solitude's parimeter, Sindell saw Ansen and Felsi leaving the gates, both on horseback. They were geared-up, seemingly ready for combat, and began down the road in Sindell's direction.

"Where are you two going?" Sindell asked.

"A job just came in that I needed help with," Felsi responded.

As Felsi spoke Sindell noticed out of the corner of his eye two other horses strutting their way out of Solitude as well. One ferried Dathus' two children, Mikal and Berta, and the other carried another older Sparrow, Victor.

Sindell looked back to Felsi and asked. "It requires five Sparrows? Sounds like fun."

"What're you up to?"

Sindell took one more look at the ridgeline, and sighed. "Just taking a little walk."

"Well, the sun is just begining to rise," Felsi said, looking to the horizon, "so we should get going. Daylight's a terrible thing to waste."

"Good luck, Sparrows," Sindell said.

As the Sparrows went down the road, Sindell decided to follow his gut and search in the forest. He seriously doubted that Mara was dumb enough to wander around in the woodland alone, but figured taking a look wouldn't hurt. As soon as he he stepped off of the main road, he noticed brown fur hanging from the outstretched branches of a tree. It looked to be fox fur, the exact same material Mara's coat was made of.

"Damn that girl..."

Sindell grabbed a tight hold on his mace's handle and ventured further into the woodland. It wasn't long before he discovered the tracts that she left in her wake, along with the two sets of tracts that the wolves that followed her left. Sindell followed them all the way to the icy lake, where they ended. In the middle of the water he could see her coat floating.

He knew this water was much too cold for Slaughterfish, so if she fell in sometime within the last few minutes, Mara could still be alive. Sindell shed the heaviest parts of his gear and dived in. He let himself float beneath the surface, eyes scanning the bottom of the lake for any sign of Mara. He saw none, no body, no pieces of clothing, nothing.

Sindell quickly returned to the surface and swam over to her coat. Wrapped around the fur garment was the belt that carried her small dagger, the one he gave to her once they arrived in the Fatherland. Sindell got himself out of the freezing cold water, coat in hand, and started a fire near the lake. He sat before the burning flame, lit by magic, contemplating his next move.

She could still be alive, he knew, but Sindell had no idea where he could start searching. He also wondered why she wasn't wearing her coat. The only way he'd find her indefinitely is with some help from someone who was a little better at tracking than he was.

The Dark Elf rose and headed back towards Solitude. The only person Sindell knew that owned a capable tracking dog was Talia.


	12. Fear the Reaper

Consciousness was beginning to return to Mara. Her thoughts were cloudy and her body felt unresponsive to most of her commands. She slowly opened her eyes and was met by the sight of a fire burning a foot away from her body. She rolled over onto her side, trying desperately to get closer to the warming flame.

A hand gently rolled her over onto her back, allowing Mara to get a look at the person that stood over her. Through her blurry vision, the woman before her appeared to a Breton, skin whiter than snow, hair blacker than a starless night sky, all cut short except for the three thin braids that hung down the left side of her face, with eyes the color of the sea. Her complexion was flawless, not a blemish or scar present on the skin that Mara could see. A silver ring pierced her left nostril, the one piece of jewelry she seemed to wear.

When she looked around her environment, Mara could tell that they were holed up in some sort of cave. The sound of raindrops collecting in puddles could be heard from outside, soon followed by the booming sounds of thunder.

With her slender fingers, the stranger parted Mara's lips and leaned her head up. She then put a cup of warm water to her mouth and poured it down her throat. Mara drank without resistance and when she was finished, the woman placed a small, dried up piece of fruit on her tongue.

"Swallow it," the woman said. Her voice sounded youthful, almost childlike. Mara followed her instructions and swallowed. "That fire fruit will help warm you up."

"Who are you?" Mara asked, trying to get a grip and get her bearings.

"A'mber. They nabbed the two of us at the same time."

"Oh…" Mara laid her head back down on the cold hard ground. She brought her head right back up again and asked, "Wait, who's they?"

A'mber shrugged. "Spellcasters of some sort, I think. Doesn't seem like they're too friendly either."

"I was kidnapped? Again? How'd they capture me? What's happening?"

"Well, those two wolves that chased you into the lake were actually searching for me. These … freak mages were using them to hunt me, and the stupid beasts chased me up a tree. That's when you showed up and got their attention. I was intent on letting them chase you around until I saw you fall into the lake."

"You're the one that dove into the water after me?"

"Like an idiot. They pounced on us while I was trying to get that water out of your lungs."

Mara sat up, chills running through her body. "Thank you for helping me," she said.

"Yeah…" A'mber stood and placed her hands on her hips. "I gotta' figure a way out of here."

Mara looked around, but saw nothing preventing them from just walking out of the cave. "What do you mean? Can't we just leave?"

"No. They placed a circular rune around us that keeps us from leaving."

Mara reached her hand out, testing A'mber's theory, and was met by a powerful electrical current running up her arm. She jerked her hand back and looked at the ground, a glowing circle tracing its way around them. It was about fifteen feet in diameter and Mara saw no gap in the circular cell.

"I tried that," said A'mber. "We're stuck."

A man wearing a set of loose fitting blue robes entered through the mouth of the cave and approached the two women. The man smiled confidently and crossed his arms.

"Hello, ladies. Need anything? Perhaps a sweetroll or some ale?"

"Don't you have something better to do? Why don't you go play with yourself or something," A'mber snapped.

The man laughed. "I'll take that as a no."

The man turned and left the cave, continuing to laugh.

"He's been coming and checking on us for the last while…" A'mber said. "If we're going to get outta' here, we're gonna' have to use him."

* * *

"How do you lose a person?"

Sindell sighed. "I told you she's the one that lost me."

Talia followed Sindell into the thick woodland, a rolled scroll in hand. Talia knew it was also her responsibility to keep an eye on the girl, though she still wanted to make a bit of a fuss about the whole thing.

"This is the spot."

Talia looked at the lake as she unraveled the piece of parchment. "And she fell in?" she asked, fishing a quill from the pack that hung from her belt.

"Yes, but her body isn't at the bottom," Sindell said, watching Talia write something on the paper. "I've checked."

"I have no doubt you did," Talia told him as she finished her scribbling. She approached a nearby tree and pinned the parchment to the trunk with a thrust of her dagger. In the center was some sort of shape, what Sindell assumed would be used for the summoning. "Stand back a bit, darling."

Sindell took several steps back, knowing just how dangerous Talia's spells could be. The woman recited a rather dramatic incantation in the Daedric language, none of which Sindell understood. Talia stood before the scroll, silent, like something spectacular was supposed to happen.

The scroll then began to glow a dark blue. A ball of light shot from the center of the parchment and hit the dirt directly behind Talia, soon after disappearing. A very slight moaning that almost soundly beastly emanated from the spot and Sindell took a few more precautionary steps back.

"Come on, To'k. Wake up," Talia commanded.

A snout began to push its way through the ground. Like it was rising from the grave, a hound emerged from the earth. Every muscle was visible on its skinned form, all of them moving in the most disturbing way. The hound shook the dirt and mud from its skinny skeletal body and gave a raspy bark.

Talia tossed Mara's coat down in front of the Daedric creature and said, "Find her…"

The dog huffed, seemingly in discontent or annoyance, and sniffed the piece of clothing. It then walked off, heading deeper into the forest.

"Now, we let To'k lead the way."

* * *

The dagger's tip pricked Ansen's index finger as he played around with the blade. He shook his hand, trying to shake the pain off and looked up at Felsi. She stood with her back against a boulder that stood just off the road, her arms crossed over her chest.

"He's late!" Berta shouted. The girl lay on her back in the grass, banging her head against the dirt.

"She's right," Ansen said.

Felsi looked up at the sun's position in the afternoon sky and said, "I know. We'll only give him a little longer…"

The five Sparrows had been waiting for a professor from the college to meet them for an hour. The man was supposed to assist them in finding the rogue instructor and his students.

Ansen's ears picked up the galloping of hooves approaching. He turned toward the road and saw a young Orc making his way up the road on a paint horse. The Orsimer man was short; at least that's how he looked sitting atop the steed, with a long dark ponytail. The man's equally dark eyes assessed the five as he came upon them and dismounted.

"I apologize for being late, but several bandits gave me a bit of trouble on the way over," the man said. His brightly colored robes and the jewelry he was adorned with told Felsi that he came from the College of Winterhold.

"You're Gorakhal?" Felsi approached.

"And you're Felsi Black-Heart, correct?"

"Yes, and these are my fellow mercenaries," Felsi gestured to the others.

"I was told that you all need help finding our little rogue instructor?" Gorakhal asked, clasping his hands together behind his back.

Victor walked over, the former sailor looking the man up and down a few times. The Imperial, with scars running across his shaven head and the black Jolly Roger crested patch that covered his left eye-socket, was a dangerous man. The Skyrim native used to be the first mate on a ship called the Grey Night, before coming back to the north after the sinking of the vessel. There was a legend about the man that'd been floating around the Sparrows for years and years that said that Victor was the greatest mercenary swordsman in Tamriel. Ansen always wanted to see if this legend was true.

"You don't look like a professor, kid," Victor observed. "How do you know this guy?"

"Well, I was one of Professor Drake's top students, and was tasked with helping you all retrieve the Shadow Text," Gorakhal explained.

"The Shadow Text? Is that the book that he stole?" Mikal asked.

"It is."

"What does the book contain?" Felsi inquired, her suspicion about this job beginning to grow.

Gorakhal was silent. "She asked you a question," Victor said.

"I can't tell you…" Gorakhal responded, letting his eyes fall to his feet.

Mikal stood and began to scowl at the man. "Believe me; we have ways of making you talk!"

Berta stepped in front of Mikal and placed a hand on his chest, preventing him from advancing on the Orc. She knew he got in enough trouble that way, and didn't need any more. Felsi smiled and turned back to the young, brash warrior. "Keep calm, Mikal. No need to get angry. We can't force him to tell us anything…" she said.

"But Felsi-"

The look in Felsi's eye told Mikal that she wanted him to stop talking. "Well, Gorakhal, where do we start looking for this professor of yours?"

Gorakhal inhaled and recomposed himself. "The college believes Professor Drake and his other students are hiding out either near Morthal or Dawnstar. We should start at those two holds."

"Great." Felsi strode over to her horse which stood, grazing off the road and mounted her. "We'll start with Morthal since it's the closest. Let's ride, Sparrows."

As the others mounted their steeds as well, Ansen clambered up Felsi's horse and took a seat behind her. "You're not really just gonna' trust this guy, are you?" he asked.

Felsi laughed at Ansen's naivety and said, "Of course not. I was able gleam a lot of information from the Orc's refusing to tell us anything."

"Really?"

"The College of Winterhold wants this book back very badly, meaning that it's of some value to them. Chances are, the contents of the book are quite dangerous, which is why someone at the college instructed Gorakhal not to tell us a thing about it if we were to ask. Knowing Victor, he realized the very same thing and is now watching this guy like a hawk."

Ansen turned his head slightly and saw out of the corner of his eye Victor riding directly in back of the Orc, staring holes in the back of his head. "Not bad," the Imperial-Nord nodded in appreciation.

"Ask yourself a question, Ansen: how would the college know where to start looking for these people? A lucky guess? No, they know where Drake's going, and where he's leading his flock of students, or at least they have an idea. And now this kid is leading us right to him…"

* * *

"Well, this more than a little disturbing…" Talia remarked.

The corpse was that of a High Elf male, stripped naked with punctures going up and down the torso. The eviscerated body laid right off the road at the peak of a curve on the road a stone's throw from Rorikstead.

"I doubt a murderer would leave his victim lying in the middle of the road," Sindell said.

Talia knelt beside the man, studying the punctures in him and said, "A murderer also doesn't use research tools to sate his lust for blood… Someone's doing a little work on the dead."

Sindell noticed out of his periphery there were wheel tracks in the dirt. "Suppose it fell from a cart or wagon?"

"I think we both know what this is, but why would they carry the dead around with them?"

"Emotional attachment. Perhaps a relative or loved one," the elf observed.

"Usually the reason why a mage delves into black magic," Talia stated.

Sindell continued to study the tracks and noticed something strange about them. "Talia. Come look at this."

The Imperial wandered over and peered down at the dirt, squinting slightly. "There are multiple sets. They've got at least three wagons."

"What could they be carrying?"

Talia shrugged and said, "Who knows. It looks like To'k's picked Mara's sent up again, though."

The skinned hound sniffed at the tracks in the dirt and began following them, heading west. "Wanna' bet that these are the people that have her?"

"I'm hoping your dog's nose is broken."

"His body might be broken and he might have a bad attitude, but To'k's sniffer has been working correctly for thirty years," Talia said.

"Great."

* * *

Ansen arrived back at the center of the small town and looked to the other members of the Sparrows. "You all have any luck?" he asked.

Mikal and Victor shook their heads. Felsi shot Ansen an annoyed look and then looked away. "I'm guessing you've found nothing?" she asked.

"Quite the contrary," Ansen said triumphantly. "There's talk going around about a pair of strangers that're staying at the Moorside Inn who've been seen wandering around at night, heading off into the forest."

"Did they say what these two individuals looked like?" Gorakhal asked.

Ansen thought back to what the mill worker told him. "One's a tall, lanky Dark Elf and the other is a young Nord."

"Rayse and Waylan. Those are definitely Professor Drake's students."

"Good work, Ansen." Felsi grinned and put a hand on Mikal's shoulder. "You feel like roughing a few mages up, kid?"

Ansen glanced down at Mikal and could see the muscles in his body tightening with gleeful anticipation. Felsi stood and started the walk toward the Moorside Inn, a place where she'd laid her head once or twice before. Snow slowly fell from the cloudy night sky now, covering the ground in white and landing atop Felsi's uncovered head, dotting her red hair.

She stopped as they came upon the inn and turned to her fellow mercenaries. "Mikal and I will go in alone. The rest of you wait out here."

"Uh … are you sure we shouldn't go with you?" Berta asked.

"I'm sure," Felsi snapped. She turned to Victor. "Watch the door for me?"

"Aye," the former sailor responded.

Berta pouted as her brother and Felsi headed into the building. "Bitch."

Felsi stepped into the inn and observed for a minute. The place was small and strangely quiet for an inn at night, besides the singing of the Nord bard in the corner. There were only three others that occupied the space, one of them the man standing behind the bar. Felsi approached the fellow Nord and leaned against the bar.

"Evening, travelers. What can I get you?" the man asked as he wiped the bar down.

"Two friends of ours are staying here. Have they gotten back yet? We're supposed to meet them," Felsi said, lying through her teeth with a smile that anyone could mistake for genuine.

"You just missed them," the barkeep said. "They headed out less than an hour ago. Should be back soon."

"Dammit. I told Rayse to wait for us," she groaned, looking to Mikal. She cast him a quick smile and returned her gaze to the bartender. "Thanks kinsman."

Felsi handed the man a few Septims and turned to leave. As the duo exited the inn, Mikal said, "That was some impressive fibbing."

"I know," Felsi laughed.

"They're not inside?" Berta asked.

"Nope. Apparently we just missed them," Mikal told his sister.

"Yeah, well I might've just found them…" Victor remarked.

He saw two men wearing robes emerging from the woodland. One was a Dunmer and the other Nord, an exact descriptive fit of the two they were searching for. When the two mages saw the quintet standing outside the inn, they immediately turned around and quickly began walking back toward the tree-line.

"That's them!" Gorakhal stated.

Felsi dropped down and broke into a sprint. "Mikal, let's go!"

The young Sparrow followed behind her as she pursued the duo. With the head start the mages had, it would be difficult to catch them on foot, and Felsi knew this. She drew one of her throwing knives and skillfully chucked it, landing the steel in the shoulder blade of the Dunmer, Rayse. His accomplice slowed when the Dark Elf went down, giving Mikal the opening he needed.

The large Black-Heart, with deceptive speed for his size, drove his shoulder into the Nord's chest, flattening him. Mikal dropped down and placed his knee in the man's chest, preventing him from squirming.

The other Sparrows caught up and Victor asked, "You didn't kill them, did you?"

"Of course not," Felsi responded, pulling her knife from the Dunmer's back. "After all, we've still got questions to ask these two."

"We … won't tell you … anything!" the Nord huffed, pain running through his chest.

"We'll see about that," Victor said.

Felsi punched the elf in his back, right where she'd driven her knife, producing a bone chilling scream. "Just tell us where Drake is and we'll leave you be."

"No…" Rayse moaned.

"Suit yourself," Felsi shrugged.

Victor drew his long katana, giving Ansen a look at the amazingly forged blade. Symbols, which appeared to be elven lettering, were carved into the actual blade and the hilt was plated with silver, and wrapped with Brahmin leather.

Ruthlessly, Victor decapitated the elf with one quick motion, turning the white snow crimson red. Waylan, his Nordic companion screamed and tried to scramble away, to no avail with Mikal's knee still planted firmly in his back.

Felsi knelt beside him and said, "It's Your turn, big fella'."

"Wait, wait, I'll tell you what you want to know!"

"Good boy," she said. "Where is he?"

"I don't know where he is right now, but he and the others were going to a graveyard west of here, four miles," Wayman spouted quickly as he watched Victor clean the blood from his blade with a handkerchief. "Rayse and I were supposed to meet them tomorrow and bring the jewel."

"Stop. What jewel?" Victor asked.

"It's in my pocket, it's supposed to help with the spell!" he said, speeding up his words as Victor came closer.

"Spell?" Victor asked, placing the edge of his blade by his face. "What kind of spell?"

"I don't know I don't know! Drake never told us, just said that we would transcend death, or something!"

Felsi and Victor met eyes. "Necromancers…"


	13. Living Nightmares

Mud caked shovels pried graves open. Their residents were unceremoniously removed and tossed into piles in the center of the graveyard. Even from so far away, the pungent smell of death and decay filled the air. The treacherous spellcasters were few in number, only eight excluding the infamous instructor who stood at a distance, watching the men and women work, wearing an expression of satisfaction.

Drake Hannel. He was Imperial of perhaps middle age, almond hair with a streak of grey running along the left side. His facial hair was cut clean and thin, almost giving him the appearance of a Cyrodiilic nobleman, just the kind of people Felsi hated. The black robes he wore were decorated flashily with different designs and jewel ornaments that added an air of arrogance.

His apparent students were a mixed bag of different shapes, sizes and races, seemingly having no similarities in appearance or in mannerism, except for all of them having the same expression when their eyes fell upon the man, one of affection and devotion. They reminded Felsi of a cult.

She removed the looking glass from her eyes and glanced back at her own group. She had Berta and Ansen who were the best young marksmen in the North, Mikal and Victor, both of which were talented melee fighters, and the mage, Gorakhal, whom she still wasn't sure was trustworthy or not. The man, she was sure, was playing them, or at least trying to.

Victor walked up to Felsi's side and asked, "How's it look?"

The woman finally took her eyes from Gorakhal. "See for yourself, with your one good eye."

Victor took the looking glass from Felsi and peered down at the graveyard. "Either these kids are studying the age-old art of undertaking, or they're necromancers like we thought," Felsi said.

"I'm thinking necromancers."

"I believe that if we're going to strike, we should do so sooner rather than later. We have the advantage," Gorakhal chimed in. He hadn't stopped examining the crystal they'd taken from the two mages in Morthal since getting his hands on it. The mesmerizing gem, even Felsi had to admit, kept catching her eye. "The spell they mean to cast, I don't believe it'll work without this."

Berta snatched the rectangular, multicolored stone from him and asked, "You figure out what this rock does yet?"

"I believe it is an amplifier, used to greatly increase one's level of magicka. Normally a person would only be able to sustain necromancy for so long, and their thrall would only have a low level of self-awareness and intelligence. With a strong enough amplifier, not only could you hold necromancy for much longer, but under the right conditions, one could possibly revive something as large as a mammoth. Put simply-"

"Couldn't you have put it simply in the first place?" Berta interrupted. She tossed the stone back to the Orsimer and turned away.

Gorakhal sighed. "This gem makes a necromancer's undead minion much more dangerous."

"Well, if what you say is true, and we really do have the advantage, we should exploit it," Victor said, still looking through the scope.

Felsi observed their surroundings and began to formulate a plan. "Alright, gather 'round, because I'm only saying this once. Berta, you and Ansen get to high ground, doesn't matter where as long as you have a clear view of that graveyard. If you see me do this," Felsi held up her left hand with her index, middle and small fingers showing, "open fire. Don't do a thing until you see these three fingers, understand?"

Ansen and Berta nodded in recognition and copied the three finger gesture. Felsi handed her looking glass to Ansen and turned to Victor. "Vic, you and I are going to don the robes we took from those two mages and see if we can infiltrate their little circle, try and get the book before the party gets underway."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Gorakhal. Hang around the perimeter until we need you."

"As you wish."

Felsi held out her hand. "And I'll hold on to that little crystal…" Her face was expressionless and her harsh tone left no room to argue and, at least on the surface, the Orc didn't seem to have any intention of disagreeing, placing it in the center of her palm.

"Alright. You know your jobs, get to it," she ordered sternly.

As everyone went their separate ways, Felsi pulled Mikal to the side. "Listen, big fella', I don't trust this guy."

The large man furrowed his brow. "You want me to keep an eye on him for you?"

"Keep both eyes on him."

Mikal began to tail Gorakhal and Felsi turned back in the direction of the graveyard, looking on as her group splintered.

* * *

Berta pulled herself up to the thickest branch on the tall oak and straddled it. She turned her head toward the graveyard and squinted. "I think this is high enough…" she mumbled, bouncing on the branch, testing its strength. "This'll do."

The tree sat right at the edge of the tree-line around the graveyard. She would have to be careful not to be seen, but other than that, it was perfect. It sat comfortably in her crossbow's range and had a clear view of the entire field, an ideal perch for someone like her. The teen, although still quite young, went out on several missions with her older brother, and or Reli when she required a good shot. Her crossbow, lovingly named Adja, was something Berta was extremely proud and protective of.

Ansen finally made his way up the tree that sat directly next to the one Berta was perched in. He looked across to her and tossed the looking glass into her waiting hands. The teenage mercenary brought the scope to her eye and peered down at the graveyard. Around its perimeter was an iron fence, ten feet tall with spikes topping each of the spokes, with a tall, heavy gate on the eastern side that stood open. Within were dozens of tombstones, many of which hadn't been opened yet by the mages, and a crypt which sat at the very back of the grounds. Beside Drake sat a beautifully carved coffin with gold trimming and a red velvet skirt, without a doubt an extremely expensive item.

"So many bodies…" she said, still speaking to herself.

Ansen hung his quiver from a branch just above his head and readied his bow. "Have they entered the graveyard yet?"

"Not yet."

Berta very indiscreetly cast her ire-filled eyes to the Imperial-Nord. She was hoping, praying to Talos that Felsi didn't stick her with Ansen, but of course the very first thing that the woman says is that she wants the two of them working together. Berta didn't think highly of Ansen before, but after he beat her brother down the way he did, she began to hate him.

She wasn't going to let it interfere with the job, though. If there was one thing that her father drilled into the skulls of Berta and her brother, it was that you never let personal feelings get in the way of coin and coin was one thing that Berta always ... appreciated.

* * *

Snow still fell on this late Turdas afternoon and Mara watched as the flakes floated down to the ground from within the prison carriage. A'mber, her cellmate, weakly struggled against the irons that kept her hands bound. Besides the two of them, the dark haired Nord guard that usually watched over the duo sat in the back of the carriage as well, watching the scenery go by.

"You can stop tying to get out of those irons, Imperial," the man said to A'mber. "We're here."

Mara sat up to get a look around to try and see where they were as the wagon came to a halt, and immediately wished she didn't. She stood and shifted over to the side where A'mber sat and asked, "Have you figured out a way for us to not die yet? Because they're taking us to a damn graveyard. A graveyard."

A'mber just sat there, groaning. "To be honest, I'm … not gonna' be much use to you right now," she said. "I've come up with a plan, though. We have to get him," A'mber nodded toward the Nord, "alone. If you can do that for me, I think I can get free of these restraints."

Mara thought carefully for only a few moments. "I have to pee!" she shouted to the man.

He turned to her, raising his brow in confusion. "What?"

"I have to pee."

He sighed and stepped off of the wagon. "Come on, then."

Mara stepped down as well, briefly glancing back at A'mber as she followed the guard into the woods. The Breton watched her go and leaned back in her seat. Her deep blue eyes turned up to the sky as the clouds coasted their way in front of the sun.

The man led Mara about forty paces into the brush and stopped. "Go ahead. But make it quick, we don't have all day."

Mara smiled and slowly made her way behind a boulder just a few feet away. "What in Oblivion am I supposed to do now?" she whispered.

After a while, the man asked, "Are you done yet?"

"Uh, almost." Mara tried to break the ropes that bound her slender wrists together.

"Hi there handsome."

The seductive female voice seemed to resonate from all directions, like it penetrated the very air around Mara. She looked around, but found no one speaking and when she peered around the boulder, found that her escort seemed to hear the voice as well.

"Y'know, I was wondering when I got an opportunity to finally get a hold of you. You people were smart, only moving me in the daylight, keeping powerful runes around me instead of tossing me in a traditional cell, but I assume you didn't count on this afternoon being so very … cloudy."

Before the Nordic mage even knew it had happened, a pair of sharp, pointed fangs found his unprotected neck. They sunk down deep into his flesh and pale, unornamented lips drained the precious crimson liquid. The venom that'd been shot into his bloodstream by the fangs paralyzed his body, like the poison of a Black Carpa mushroom.

Mara trembled as she watched A'mber bleed the Nord, sucking the life right from his neck. She couldn't believe the woman that had been sitting next to her, sleeping beside her for days could've, whenever she wished, sucked the blood from her veins.

Once sated, the Breton pulled her fangs from the Nord's neck and he collapsed to his knees, lifeless. A'mber took a dizzy step back, still riding the feeling of ecstasy that had a hold of her. Coming down from her high, she remembered where she was and recomposed herself to the best of her ability, though she still felt like she'd just had electricity sent up her spine. A'mber could just barely see Mara cowering behind the boulder to her left, looking in her direction.

She inhaled deeply and sighed, knowing what she'd just done to the girl. Instead of dwelling on it, she knelt and took the key to her irons from his coat. As she unlocked the shackles, A'mber said, "So, you know my little secret now… I'm a monster."

Mara lips trembled as she tried to figure what she should do.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, unless you do something stupud. I just needed a little blood to boost my energy again," she said, glancing down at the body at her feet.

Slowly, as to not spook the Imperial any more than she had, A'mber approached and broke her rope bindings. "You should get going."

Even after A'mber gave Mara her word she wouldn't be hurt, the Imperial was still sure she was going to die. But the Breton vampire just turned and walked away, in the direction of the graveyard.

"Arthurous took them this way!" Mara heard echo in the distance.

A'mber stopped her walk and turned in the direction of the shouting. "That must be the wagon driver I knocked unconscious." Reluctantly, she looked to Mara and said, "Come with me. We need to hurry up and disappear before those damnable wolves catch our scent."

Mara wouldn't budge.

"You're really just going to stand there? I shoulda' left you in that lake…"

The Breton grabbed Mara's wrist, squeezing so tight it hurt, and pulled her in the direction of the rising sun, toward the graveyard. If she was going to end the mage's hunting of her, A'mber would have to go to the very source: Drake Hannel. Getting to him without dying was going to be a problem, though.

* * *

They were getting strange looks here and there from the others, but it seemed as if the two veteran Sparrows had successfully infiltrated the graveyard. The robe Felsi wore fit a little snug around the chest and stomach, which didn't surprise her considering the man she'd taken it from was a smidge smaller than her.

The hoods on their heads helped to hide their identities, but Victor thought it better to keep a low profile. They stayed low, avoided sight whenever possible as they slowly, cautiously made their way to the professor's position, near the crypt at the back.

"This is going surprisingly well…" Victor commented.

Felsi laugh and said, "You and I both know something's going go wrong eventually. This would be no fun otherwise."

"I swear, woman, sometimes I wonder if you and little Berta are the same age."

"I was much crazier than Berta when I was a sixteen."

"I can only imagine."

Felsi stopped as the came down behind a low brick wall and scanned the area. She immediately found the man that held the book, the Shadow Text. The High Elf stood directly beside Drake, clutching the book tightly to his chest, as if his life depended upon it.

"Well, I found the book. Now we just figure out how to get it," Felsi said, again formulating a plan of action.

"… We could just walk over."

"No. Maybe if I got their attention, start hollering about an intruder and-"

Victor placed his hand on her shoulder. "Where did Drake go?" he asked, glancing around.

Felsi just noticed it. The Altmer that carried the Shadow Text was now standing by himself.

"What the-"

"If I'd known we'd be having guests, I would've straightened up a little." Victor and Felsi both spun around, the latter holding knives between each of the fingers of her left hand.

The firebolt that met them when they turned was traveling much too fast to be avoided and if it weren't for the ash that swarmed around their bodies and hardened, preventing the flames from slipping through, the duo would've been dead. Gorakhal scaled the fence that surrounded the graveyard and lightly landed on his feet, releasing the Ash Shell spell he'd just cast.

As soon as the spell was lowered and the ashes fell from their bodies, Victor's cutlass slid from its sheath within his robe. "Go for the book!" he told Felsi.

As she dashed in the direction of the Altmer, Victor charged Drake. The experienced Imperial spellcaster placed an adept whirlwind rune directly in the former pirate's path, tossing him high into the air as his foot came down on the trap. As Victor reached the peak of his height, Drake sent a stream of electricity into his chest, cracking the armor plate beneath his robes.

The Graveyard was now abuzz with mages, defending against the intruding group. They not only had Gorakhal, Felsi and Mikal, who'd just climbed the fence, to contend with, but the Nordic woman, while heading for the book raised three fingers in the air, her index, middle and small.

Not a second later, the first shot, a crossbow bolt, landed in the chest of a mage that pursued Felsi. A well placed arrow that landed in the lower thigh of the High Elf she was chasing soon followed. She was so close to him now, all she needed to do is reach out and grab his robes.

Another, much more powerful fire spell cast by Drake struck Felsi from behind, engulfing her in white hot flame. Wihout thought, she rolled up to the dirt and cast off her garment, the flames not touching her skin once. It did, however, burn away the sleeves of the shirt she wore beneath her armor, revealing her scarred arms.

As she turned to face the man, Drake came upon her burning robes and reached his hand inside the fire. He pulled it back out hastily, the multicolored crystal the Sparrow had earlier taken from Gorakhal in hand.

"Thank you for bringing this to me," Drake said, slipping the crystal in his pocket and then casting a healing spell on his burned hand. As his mages engaged the mercenaries, he asked, "Who are you people?"

"What's the point of explaining yourself to a dead man?"

Felsi chucked her knives at the man, aiming for his throat. They bounced off with a ping sound when he cast Iron Flesh, smiling with confidence. The Sparrow leader smiled back and drew her carved Nordic dagger.

* * *

The Dunmer mercenary looked up at the sky, observing as the thick clouds that hung in the sky began to gather. A storm was brewing, he could tell, and it was going to be a nasty one. Just as that thought ran through Sindell's mind, the light snowfall that'd been coming down since the previous night was beginning to pick up. Mara chose the perfect time of winter to get lost – blizzard season.

The cave Sindell and Talia came across five miles back definitely had Mara's scent in it, at least according to the hound, but she was no longer there. The trail they were following was fresh, meaning wherever she was being taken, they would have to come across it soon.

"You're quiet," Talia said, bringing him back to reality.

"Thinking."

"Yeah, well, don't hurt yourself, honey."

"Hilarious."

They heard an explosion come from the north, dead ahead. Both spellcasters could tell just by the sound that it was magical in origin, a Destruction spell. Sindell's ears perked up and he said, "There's a battle going on up ahead. And it sounds like a large one."

"Come on. We've got to hurry. Chances are, that's where she'll be," Talia said, picking up the pace, dismissing her skinned hound, To'k.

Before the two could really even get anywhere, they came across yet another corpse deeper in the trees. Talia immediately noticed the punctures in his neck and the unnaturally pale complexion of his skin.

"A vampire, probably," she said. "It's strange for him to be drained in the middle of day, without fighting back." She looked around for any signs of a struggle and found none.

"Strange indeed."

Sindell's ears picked up something else just then, something besides the sounds of battle off in the distance. It sounded like talking not too far away and one of the voices seemed familiar.

"I got her!" Sindell shouted, realizing where he'd heard the voice before and rushed off.

"Damn you, elf! Wait for me. You know I'm not an athlete!" Talia called, pathetically trying to keep up with the mer.

"Just hurry!"

* * *

Although she'd just fed, A'mber still had no way of fighting back against the men that'd pursued her. There were three of them, all mages of Drakes, surrounding her and Mara. The Imperial woman stood beside her, not really sure who to be more afraid of, the mages or the undead bloodsucker.

"Now just come along, nice and easy, girly," one of them said. "There ain't no need to fight back, not with the sun clear in the sky. You could get hurt that way…"

If it weren't for Mara, A'mber probably would've been able to find somewhere to hide and mask her scent. But unfortunately for her, the girl re-injured her ankle when she tripped over a root jutting from the dirt. The Imperial was all but dead weight then, just being dragged along by the Breton until these men caught up to them.

"Drake wants her alive, just in case. But that doesn't mean we can't cut her hands and feet off," one of the other mages said, attempting to threaten the vampire.

A Dunmer A'mber never saw before came upon the three like a hurricane, swinging the bludgeon in his hand with masterful skill. Before any of the three mages could cast a single spell, they were left lying in the dirt, dead, their skull's cracked open. The elf glanced up at A'mber and questioningly met her deep blue eyes.

Mara ran, to the best of her ability, over and much to Sindell's surprise embraced him in a tight hug. "Thank you so much…" she whispered. "You don't know how glad I am to see you, Sindell."

"Are you alright?" the elf asked as Talia walked upon the scene, short of breath.

Mara nodded and continued to squeeze him, like a child clutching their parent following a nightmare.

Talia, the sly witch that she was, held a hand behind her back, brewing a frost spell as she stared down the vampire. She could tell at first glance, just by looking at her appearance, that the woman was a vampire.

"Who's your friend, sweetie?" Talia asked the young Imperial.

"She helped me escape those mages when we were imprisoned together."

As the spell was reaching its peak, Talia asked, "So I shouldn't freeze her solid?"

Mara looked back to A'mber. After a brief moment of thought, she replied, "No."

"Is … that an emphatic no, or…"

"I'd probably be dead if it weren't for her, so-"

"I just want to know you're sure. Putting her on ice would not be a problem…"

"I'm sure!"

Talia dispersed the spell brewing in her hand and assumed a more relaxed demeanor. The sounds of battle still boomed in Sindell's ears and he turned to the sounds. It brought memories back to the front of his mind; ones he stored away and thought would never reappear. They were the sounds of war, and were all too familiar to him.

* * *

The mage was good. Felsi never once underestimated him, but he was better than even she thought he would be. Drake's skill surpassed that of any other spellcaster she'd ever faced. It wasn't the level of spells he flung her way, they were mostly adept, but he had an obscene level of magicka and gave out an almost constant flow of the stuff. She wondered if it was because of the crystal...

Icy spikes sped by the Nord's head as she dashed between tombstones. Felsi would get skewered if she stopped so she attacked on the move, throwing the remainder of her knives at the mage. Drake ceased the icy assault to protect his face, taking the three flying weapons in the forearm.

When he dropped his guard, Felsi rushed him and unleashed a flurry of slashes with her Nordic dagger. Drake prevented any of the attacks from going too deep by effectively backing away during the onslaught.

"Felsi, behind you!" Mikal called as he drove his greatsword into the skull of a Redguard.

Felsi was struck in the back of the head with a stone the size of her fist. The throbbing pain in her skull was soon followed by blurring vision and she dropped her knife. Drake blew passed her and ran to his Altmer student, taking the Shadow Text from his hands.

"I recognize the patch on their armor," the elf said. "These people are Silver Sparrows."

Drake grinned as he flipped through the pages of the book, "Mercenaries, eh? Well, if they want to fight I would be more than happy to oblige…"

"Stop him!" Gorakhal shouted, gesturing to the Sparrows. He looked up at the trees where Ansen and Berta were camped. "Shoot him! Shoot Drake before he's able to cast!"

Berta shouldered her crossbow and aimed at the Imperial. "I've got him," she whispered.

She pulled the trigger and the bolt launched from the weapon and sliced through the air. When the High Elf saw it coming, with no regard for his own wellbeing, he stepped in front of his professor and took the bolt in the chest.

"Damn! Ansen!"

The Imperial-Nord reached up to his quiver and his hand came back empty. "I'm out of arrows."

It was too late, anyway. Drake already finished the Daedric incantation within the book, the gem in his hand beginning to glow a bright lavender, then blue and pink. The jewel then turned an abysmal black and Drake smiled again. Tendrils of lightning surged from the book in all directions, striking several of the graves around the man.

"Welcome back to the living, brothers and sisters!"

An eerie silence hung in the air, as the winds picked up, transforming the steady snowfall into something else. As what would probably be a blizzard began to form, Felsi put her hand to the back of her head, making sure there wasn't any bleeding, and she was thankful when she only felt her red hair. That's around the time when she noticed the bodies two fallen mages nearby beginning to stir. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that they were dead, she saw many of them die with her own two eyes, but even so, they began to rise.

Her eyes found Victor just a couple dozen feet away, the same expression of shock strewn across his face. "Felsi. This is a problem."

The corpses the group of mages had earlier unearthed and pilled together now began to rise as well, limp and decaying. There had to be at least twenty undead men and women standing all around Felsi, Victor, Mikal and Gorakhal.

Victor twirled his cutlass by the hilt and said, "It shouldn't be possible to summon _this_ many undead thralls!"

"It's the book. It holds some very sensitive Daedric incantations within, hence why the College of Winterhold wants it back. They had it locked up tight, to the point where no one could get to it, not even me…"

"You should've said something earlier! We would've just destroyed the thing!" Victor growled.

Ansen's ability to see what was going on in the graveyard was quickly lessening and his position in the tree becoming more and more useless. Biting his bottom lip, Ansen made a decision and began to climb down the tree.

"Where in Sovngarde are you going?" Berta asked as she watched him descend.

"They need help and I'm all out of arrows. Where do you think I'm going?"

Ansen landed on the snowy ground, the ice beneath his boots crunching lightly. As he walked to the fence that surrounded the graveyard, along with the blackish glow of the jewel Drake held, he could see an orange light emanating from within, quickly growing in size and brightness.

"What's that?" Ansen could hear Berta ask.

"I don't know," he responded. Slowly the realization came to him and Ansen cursed, wide eyed, and dove to the dirt. The huge fireball came rocketing through the fence and slammed into the trunk of the tree Berta nested in, almost burning through to the other side.

Slowly the tree began to teeter and Berta grabbed onto several of the branches for dear life. It was to no avail because she eventually lost her balance as the tree tipped and she fell from it, plummeting more than fifty feet to the ground below. Right before she hit the snow, Ansen came rushing over slid on his knees beneath her, catching the teen in his arms.

The Imperial-Nord let out a pained sigh as he and Berta slammed into the trunk of another tree, coming to an abrupt halt.

The girl uncovered her head after the oak hit the ground and looked around. She then looked down at Ansen and stared at him. "Uh … thanks for the save."

"I think you broke a rib…" Ansen joked.

The sound of footsteps could just barely be heard approaching and the young Sparrows sprung to their feet. "Someone's coming…" Berta said.

"Really? I hadn't guessed."

"Ansen. It's me," a thick Morrowind accent proclaimed.

Ansen let his guard fall. "Sindell?"

Just like that, the elf appeared before Ansen, carrying Mara piggyback with Talia and an unfamiliar woman flanking him. Berta didn't drop her guard until she saw the crest on Sindell's chest.

"What're you doing here? How'd you find us?"

"We weren't too far away and I could hear you talking."

Talia took a step forward, looking passed Ansen and Berta. "Ansen, what's that light?"

He turned to the black glow she was speaking of and said, "A necromancer's using some kind of special magic to raise the dead. That's where Felsi and the others are."

"What?!"

"They need our help," Ansen said, drawing his sword.

Sindell carefully let Mara down and turned to Talia. "Will the two of you be alright?" The woman gave him an amused look and the elf said, "You know what? I shouldn't have asked."

* * *

Another fell at Felsi's feet after she decapitated it with one swing of her dagger, the fourth of the undead creatures to return from whence it came by her hand. She had no idea where the others were; the winds were too strong and the snow too thick for her to see very clearly. She stayed extremely vigilant to the immediate sights and sounds around her, looking for anything that moved.

"Felsi!" she heard Sindell's distinct voice.

"Where are you?" Felsi called back.

"We need to regroup!" she then heard Victor announce.

He was right. Staying dispersed as they were was going to get them all killed one by one. Felsi knew just the way to get them all together, too, though she hadn't done it in a very long time. She reached inside her shirt and pulled out the trinket that hung from her neck by a leather strip, a small Y shaped bone.

It was a whistle she and several other Sparrows used to use to communicate and locate each other while on mission. The whistle was made from the bones of a Grey Siren, a Cyrodiilian bird that was used to carry messages during the Oblivion Crisis.

Felsi put the tip of the whistle to her lips and blew into the passageway, covering one of the three holes with her finger, producing a high-pitched sound, like a song. As she played the small device, the other Sparrows drew near, following the siren's call to its source until they all came together.

"Been a while since I heard _that_," Sindell said.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it, Dren?" Victor asked.

"Reminisce later, guys," Berta said watching as the undead drew nearer.

"Form a circle," Felsi said. "We're making a stand."

The others did as she said and formed a wide circle, all of them facing away from the center. Baring their weapons, the seven stood at the ready, awaiting the impending enemy force. Even over the roar of the wind, the creatures howls and barks could be clearly heard as they came charging.


	14. Frostbitten

The Dunmer couldn't see them, the blanket of white before his eyes kept the undead hidden, but he could hear them. They shuffled about in the building snow, all around the Sparrows, encircling them like a pack of wolves. Sindell stood, one hand gripping his weapon, the other full of fire, waiting.

A bare hand emerged from the waves of snow that flowed over him and Sindell responded with a quick strike of his mace, breaking all five of the mitt's fingers. The hand was snatched back into the waves of snow and the veteran battle-mage returned to a defensive stance. Without any form of warning, a Khajiit, eyes glowing black, pounced on Sindell with surprising agility for a dead man and knocked him down, pinning the man to the cold ground. The man-beast began raining fists onto his face and Sindell attempted to cover up.

Victor, when he saw the Dunmer being assaulted beside him, stepped over and drove his cutlass through the Khajiit's skull. He pulled the blade from the once again deceased creature and brought it up to block the incoming sword that came for his head, pushing the pile of bones that stood before him back. The walking skeleton came at Victor again, snapping at him with its boney jaws.

The creaking, yellow-boned entity didn't stand a chance. The sailor blocked the second attack of the ancient Nordic weapon, stepped forward and drove his elbow into the abomination's head, knocking the skull from its shoulders.

Felsi felled a third of the undead and shouted, "Don't let any of them pierce this circle!"

"There are too many!" Gorakhal said, taking a step back as he unleashed streams of electricity from both of his hands.

Mikal roared as he swung his greatsword in a wide arc, slaying two of the monsters. "Stop whining!" he barked.

Felsi didn't want to admit it, she was too proud, but she knew their circle was getting smaller. Everyone was taking steps back, here and there, only a small few at a time. They were being pushed, a little at a time. This was bad. Her Sparrows had no way of escape – Felsi didn't care about the job anymore, she just wanted to get her people out alive.

"Orc," she called.

"Yes?"

"You're a spellcaster. How would we un-cast this magic?"

Gorakhal pondered the answer for a moment. "You would need to destroy the source, either the book, the gem, or the caster – which ever you prefer."

"Then that's what we'll do… Vic, Sindell, let's go."

Like a well oiled machine, the three veteran mercenaries peeled off of the circle and moved together in the direction of the crypt. "Close the circle!" Victor told the others.

The young Sparrows quickly did as he said and tightened their defense. "Good. Sindell, find him for me," Felsi ordered.

"A please would be nice." The elf concentrated as he cast the spell and his eyesight adjusted, showing him every living being for several yards in a dull bluish glow. He craned his head around, finding the group they'd just separated from, and then there was one that stood on its own just a little under a hundred yards away. "Got him."

"Which way?"

"North, a couple hundred paces."

"Victor, you got my back?"

The sailor grunted in response.

"Call out the dead to us, Sindell," Felsi said.

The Dunmer released his Detect Life spell and cast another, one that let him see the undead through this cloud of snow. When he did, the blue auras that highlighted the Sparrows dissipated and were replaced by dozens upon dozens more.

Sindell watched the blobs of blue light carefully, looking for any that were converging on their position as the trio progressed through the graveyard. "Two coming up on your left," he told Victor.

The Imperial readied his blade and when the duo came at him, responded by swiftly decapitating one and skewering the other. Swimming through the sea of undead, the three made their way slowly in Drake's direction. Ten yards from the man, Felsi ran into something solid, almost like an invisible wall.

Victor placed a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"There's something in the way…"

Sindell stepped up and extended his hand. It was met with stiff resistance. "It's like … a force-field. I've heard of spells like this in the Iliac Bay..."

This spell fascinated Sindell. He'd never seen anything like it before, and wondered how it was cast. Felsi stepped up and said, "In the words of my late father, any wall can fall with enough determination and elbow grease!"

She slammed her fist into the wall with everything she had. The woman then pulled her hand back in aching pain. The wall wasn't even cracked.

"He's right in front of us and we can't touch him."

Sindell stepped forward and swung on the barrier with his mace. The bludgeon bounced off of the wall like with a thud.

"Obviously force isn't going to work. We'll have to try something else…" Sindell murmured.

Felsi punched the wall a second time and a howl was heard. "Stop punching it if it hurts that much," Victor said.

Felsi rubbed her knuckles and shook her head. "That wasn't me."

Sindell spun around and peered through the thick snow. "Shit. They're coming this way."

"The undead? How many?"

"All of them. I think attacking this barrier attracted their ire."

Victor turned to Felsi. "Find a way into this thing. We'll keep them off of you."

As soon as those words left Victor's mouth, seven of the creatures, each one of Drake's students, came running. Victor barely had time to raise his own blade in defense before they were upon him and his Dunmer companion. Sindell swung his mace wildly, trying to keep the legion back.

The monstrosity's came in rows and rows, seemingly with unlimited numbers. Sindell, Victor and Felsi were tossed about as they tried to defend themselves. The sea of vicious undead thrashed the trio relentlessly, despite their experience and training, the sheer numbers began to overcome.

Reeling from a fist to her gut, Felsi jumped back and hit the transparent wall behind her. She was soon after joined by Sindell and Victor as the three were continuously overwhelmed.

"Anyone have a plan yet?" Sindell inquired as he chucked his mace into the crowd of creatures. His magicka was tapped out in addition.

"Take as many as you can with you," Felsi suggested.

A wall of fire as hot as the sun rolled through the horde, burning the flesh form those that had it and blackening the bones of those that didn't. The three veteran Sparrows covered their faces from the extreme heat as the undead burned. Sindell glanced toward the tree-line, where the high level spell came from and saw Talia and Mara making their way into the graveyard. The flames reflected in the witches green eyes.

She released small balls of fire from her hands into the remaining mobs of undead. The acorn sized spells exploded when they came in contact with the creatures, blowing them apart. The woman made flinging fiery death from her hands look easy, striding through the fires, wearing a scowl.

As the blizzard picked up, she growled at the annoyance and waved her hand, the sky seemingly bending to her will. It cleared at her beckon, the high-speed winds halting and the snowfall slowing. This woman had changed the entire landscape of the battlefield with just a thought, a feat the younger Sparrows watched in awe of.

With returned visibility, Sindell turned his gaze passed the barrier and to Hannel. He stood on the other side of the wall, hands resting on the dark wooden coffin. Veins in his face and neck were visible through the man's almost transparent skin now, lines as black as ebony ore. Slowly, the coffin's lid was pushed open from within by a pale grey hand.

Drake helped the beautiful Imperial woman up out of the coffin, wearing a genuine smile. Once she was safely out of the box, the two embraced each other lovingly, tears streaming down the dead woman's pale face.

"You did it…" she whimpered softly into his ear. "You actually did it…"

"I told you I would. I told you I'd never let you go, Dio."

The display was swiftly interrupted by Felsi kicking the force-field. Drake turned his eyes to the disturbance, anger building in his mind. He broke the embrace with his beloved and growled at the Nordic woman.

"Felsi, step back, please," Talia said as she walked up. She stared into the eyes of Drake.

"I've grown tired of you all…" the man stated, exuding confidence.

"Then by all means, do something about us…" Talia challenged.

The rattling of bones could be heard, like the beating of drums. The crypt that lay behind him shook and the large door boomed. "Does anyone know who is buried here?" Drake inquired, grinning.

Felsi already knew. "The Boran brothers…" she mumbled.

Victor watched as the crypt door groaned open. "I was seriously hoping he wouldn't get those two involved in this."

"A passing grade for you, miss," Drake said to Felsi.

The Boran's were a pair of barbarians that cut a bloody swathe through Skyrim, challenging High King Istlod for the crown when the man was alive. They were beasts, monsters on the battlefield that no man could stand before. Stories of the duo haunted Felsi's dreams when she was young, and rightfully so. Those older than her, those who actually faced one of the brothers in combat would regale her with tales of blood being spilled and bones being broken. Most of the men and women that would tell her those stories were also horribly disfigured…

From the depths of the crypt, out of the darkness, came marching a pair of walking skeletons. Both were tall and thickly framed, wearing battered and beaten armor that appeared to be ancient Nordic, with slight modifications in different places. One wielded a long katana, rusted by the hands of time, and the other clutched a warhammer, the size of which Felsi had never seen.

"Boys, take care of these two intruders…" Drake ordered.

The two responded immediately, slowly making their way toward the Sparrows. They were met, by a pillar of fire that erupted from the ground, engulfing them in blue flame. The heat peeled the armor from their bones and burned the pair to a black, brittle crisp.

Everyone's eyes went to Talia, who wore an expression of boredom. "Alright, I just cooked your heavy hitters. What now?"

Drake was left speechless. This woman was countering everything he had going.

"How dare you…?" he whispered.

"If you thought that was bad, then you're gonna' _hate_ this."

She pointed a finger at Hannel threateningly and the man tensed. Without warning, Talia shifted her gaze to the man's wife. A spell rockted from her hand, faster than the eye could see. Before Drake knew what was happening, the necromancer's wife, the woman he'd gone through all of this trouble just to resurrect, was now covered in fire. Her clothing, her hair, her flesh, everything seemed to burn. There was a circular hole the size of platter visible in the barrier of Drake's, the edges red and smoking. The man's wife let out a scream that ran through him like a bolt of lightning.

He quickly ran over and wrapped Dio in his arms, trying desperately to put the flames out. It was no use. The flames just wouldn't go out, no matter how hard Drake tried. His beloved was returned once again to the void, this time. He lay on top of her, sobbing into her burned flesh.

Slowly, the man stood, the burns on his own skin quickly healing. He turned to Talia. "You… I'm going to kill you." He conjured a fire spell in his hand, planning to kill her the same way she tortured his beautiful wife.

"I don't think you're going to do any such thing, sweetie. I'd say you've pushed that amp of yours to its limit."

Drake curiously tilted his head to the side. He then realized that the gem, which had been sustaining his magicka and emitting a continuous heat in his hand as he held it, was now ice cold. He opened his hand and looked upon the jewel. Not only was there a crack in it, but Hannel noticed that his magicka no longer felt bolstered.

"Wha-"

Felsi's dagger was driven through the Imperial man's chest, breaking through his ribcage. The blade was then removed and brought up to his neck. Felsi sighed and said, "Damn, am I tired of you…" She slit his throat open, allowing a river of blood to flow. "Victor, grab that accursed book."

After glancing over at the necromancer's corpse, Sindell walked to Talia. "Perfect timing, as always," he said.

The Imperial woman sighed, fatigued. "I almost didn't have enough to take him out."

She opened her hand, showing Dren the several magicka amplifying gems she'd been using throughout the confrontation. She brought the four gems to her face and blew into her hand, the colorful stones turning to dust.

"It took a lot outta' you, then?"

"You wouldn't believe."

The middle aged woman walked over to one of the tombstones and sat atop it. There wasn't a muscle in her body that wasn't exhausted.

As the mercenaries went about their business, A'mber strode over to the body of Drake's wife. She knelt beside the corpse and slid the ring from Dio's finger and stuffed it into her brazier. With the ring back in her possession, A'mber could finally get away from these people.

Ansen and Berta came to Felsi's side as she searched Drake's body. "You alright?" the teen asked, slinging her crossbow over her shoulder.

"A couple nicks and bruises, but nothing time won't heal." She turned to the duo and said, "Y'know, you two did great considering this was such a high level job."

A smile grew on Berta's face. "Really? You think you can convince my father that?"

"I'm sure after this you'll stop getting the shit assignments." Felsi looked over the two for a moment, cuts and scrapes all over their bodies. Something then clicked in her mind. "You make a good team, too. I'm actually a little surprised… I half thought you'd kill each other. Good work."

Victor approached, wearing a worried look. "Where's the Shadow Text?" he asked.

"You can't find it?"

"It's not here, Felsi."

The first person that came to mind was the blasted mage, Gorakhal. "Dammit where's Mikal?!"

Ansen looked around and found the blonde juggernaut lying in the snow a dozen yards away. "Son of a…"

Felsi and Berta ran over to the man while Victor and Ansen fanned out, trying to find the Orsimer. Berta fell to the ground beside her older sibling and checked his pulse. He was living, but appeared to be completely unconscious.

"A spell. He'll come out of it sooner or later," Felsi said, patting the teen on her shoulder. She then looked around the graveyard for any sign of the Orc. There were none.

"I knew that bastard was playing us! We don't get full credit for this job if we don't bring the book to Winterhold… If I ever run into that piece of trash again, I'll gut him like a pig!"

The snowfall began to pick up again, and Victor picked Mikal up. "I'm in complete agreement, Felsi, but we should go before another blizzard starts up."

* * *

Not for the lack of trying, Talia couldn't sleep. She sat in bed for a good hour, eyes shut tight, praying she would drift off. The witch opened her green eyes and sat up. The bedroom of the Frostfruit Inn was dark, only illuminated by the dancing light of the candle sitting atop the nightstand beside her. She looked to see if Mara was still asleep, and as she thought, the girl wasn't.

She sat up in bed, scribbling something in a book. "You can't sleep either?" Talia asked.

"Nope."

Talia rose from out of bed and padded over. "What're you drawing?"

An image of Sindell's face was under Mara's quill, his features clearly and artfully recaptured in the drawing, from his sharply pointed ears and eyes, to the way his hair hangs before his eyes. "That's pretty good," Talia commented. "What else do you have in there?"

Mara handed her the book and Talia flipped through its contents. Equally beautiful sketches of Ansen, Warren, Varris, Sindell's old friend Orlia, and several others Talia didn't recognize were present. "You like doing this?"

Mara shrugged. "I get bored when I'm not being kidnapped."

"You've got some real talent."

As Talia continued to look the book over, Mara asked, "Do you think … you could teach me a few spells, just so I could defend myself? You can say no, if-"

"Don't be silly. I don't mind showing you a thing or two." Talia sat the book down on the bed and stood. "When we get back to the manor, I'll be sure to teach you a handful of things that'll help you out if you get in a bind."

Talia gave the girl a warm smile and Mara responded, "Thank you."

"I'm gonna' go get some mead. You need anything, sweetie?"

"I'm fine."

Talia stepped out of the room and Mara lay back in her bed. Her wandering mind kept her from rest. She reached over to her book and opened it, flipping through until she found one of the many drawings of her father. She knew he wasn't her biological father, but even so, Varris raised her, and she thought of him as her father.

She then found the sketches of the others. Mara stayed on Reli's for quite a while, recalling how the woman came rushing so quickly to her aid. Still Mara had yet to speak to Ansen; still she'd yet to say a thing to him. She swore that tomorrow she'd talk to him, see if there was anything she could do for him.

Mara barely noticed the sound of her window being opened. She looked up from her book in time to see the shadowy figure pounce onto her bed, pinning her arms down. Before Mara could scream, her mouth was covered. In the dim light, she couldn't make out the person's face, but the voice was immediately recognized.

"You're a hard girl to find," the woman pronounced.

Mara cried into her assailant's hand, struggling to get free. The attacker produced a small knife and touched it to Mara's cheek. The blade lightly trailed its way over her face, down her neck and chest and to her abdomen, right around Mara's ribcage. Shouting could be heard outside Mara's door.

"The Night Mother sends her regards…" The blade was sunk into Mara's chest and she screamed. "Let the poison do its job. It'll make sure you don't survive."

Sindell kicked down the door to the bedroom just as the woman clambered out the window. The knife was still jutting from Mara's body. The poison was already taking its effect, slowing her heart.

"Talia!"

The witch, after killing the Deadric warrior came rushing back to the bedroom. She passed by the body of the innkeeper, eviscerated by the large creatures blade. The assassins descended on them so fast, the Sparrows almost didn't have enough time to defend themselves. After a brief confrontation, with the mercs only killing one of the assassins, the Dark Brotherhood retreated.

Talia let that strange action go to the back of her mind when she returned to the room and saw Mara. She checked her pulse and felt nothing. Immediately, Talia picked Mara up and placed her on the wood floor.

"Sindell, get an amp from my satchel," she ordered. Talia was trying to stay calm, but found it difficult when the very same situation came up just a month and a half ago.

The elf did as she asked as the other Sparrows began to fill the room. "Which one?" Sindell asked.

"There should be a red one."

The snatched it from the small bag and threw the stone to Talia. The woman caught the amp in her mouth, letting it roll beneath her tongue, and began to cast Revive. She looked to Sindell expectantly as her hands worked. He ran over and began to cast the strongest healing spells he knew.

"Can anyone help with this?"

Victor stepped forward. "I might be able to mix a potion that could help."

"Do it."

The man dashed out the room to find his mortar and pastel. Ansen, watching as the two worked, feeling as helpless as with his sister. It was like reliving the same nightmare he'd been having since her death. The Imperial-Nord unsteadily walked over and knelt next to Talia.

"C-can I help?"

Talia looked to him, his face full of fear. "Don't worry, honey," she said in a comforting tone. "We've got this. She's not going to die. I promise."

That ate at Talia's gut. She didn't know for sure if she could save this girl, and really didn't want to promise such a thing to her son, but he needed to hear it. She already knew how he felt, watching someone die, unable to help. It was like torture.

Just then, Talia felt it. She felt a pulse surge through her hand and smiled. It was weak, very weak, but it was there. Talia wondered where the sudden jolt came from and looked down at Mara. A pink light on her chest shined through her shirt and Talia grinned.

"Fight, Mara," she whispered.

The girl's chest rose up off of the floor and she gasped, her eyes snapping open. They then closed again and she collapsed back to the floor. Talia bent over and put her ear to Mara's chest. A steady, strong heartbeat came back.

Talia breathed the heaviest sigh she could remember ever slipping past her lips. "She's alive. Unconscious, but alive..."

Sindell let his hands fall, sweat running down his brow and leaned back. "This has been a fun week, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm too old for this kind of fun."

"Likewise."

Sindell took in a deep breath, and recomposed his battle mentality. He'd actually forgetten about the damn Dark Brotherhood, and they came and snuck up on him. It wouldn't happen again, Sindell knew that much. The assassins were in Skyrim now, Sparrow territory. They were going to learn to fear the bird.


	15. Witches

A sight had never been sweeter than that of the Black-Heart manor. The blizzards had come to an end and the Sparrow's home was finally in sight. Sindell carried Mara piggyback, on request from Talia. She insisted that the young girl shouldn't be walking long distances just yet.

Outside the homestead sat Warren and Dathus, playing a game of chess, fifty Septims riding on the outcome. When they noticed the group making their way up the path, the duo put their match on hold and set off to meet them.

"Welcome home, Sparrows," Dathus greeted, opening his arms and hugging his beaten and battered daughter. "Everything went according to plan, I assume?" The sarcastic look in his eye brought a smile to Felsi's face.

"Not exactly, but we handled it."

Warren briefly looked to Talia and sighed. "And somehow Talia and Sindell weaseled their way into it?"

The Imperial woman shrugged. "Well, we weren't busy so…"

Dathus placed his hand on Berta's head and said, "You all look like death."

"Oh, believe me, death looks a lot worse than this," remarked Ansen.

As the Sparrows continued their way up to the manor, Felsi came up alongside Dathus. "We need to talk about the College of Winterhold," she said. "They screwed us out of half the payment."

Dathus' hand stroked his chin. "So, that's it…"

"What's it?"

Warren walked up and placed his hand on Felsi's shoulder. "Two mages from the college appeared on our doorstep last night. They were saying how the body of one of their professors was found near the road to Winterhold, as dead as could be. A man by the name of Yythmor."

"Yythmor. Yythmor… Where have I heard that name?" Felsi wondered. She looked back to Victor and asked him if he knew the name. He thought for a moment.

"Yythmor's the name of the man that hired us. He was supposed to meet and help us track down Drake, but the Orc showed up instead. Said something of the other professor's being busy, if I remember correctly."

"The mages said nothing of sending someone else to meet with you," Warren stated.

"The College of Winterhold didn't screw us, then," Felsi thought aloud.

Warren nodded in agreement and said, "But someone _else_ did."

As they entered the manor, Felsi turned to the other Sparrows. "Warren, Dathus and I need to go talk about this job, and our little Orc friend. Go and get some rest, okay?"

A little rest sounded pretty good to Ansen at the moment. He thought about heading back to the Gale Forge; get Lilly to repair some of his gear. His sword could use some time on the grindstone, and Ansen needed a new quiver; his was buried under a couple of feet snow somewhere near the graveyard. He lazily made his way back outside.

As the cold air touched his skin again, Ansen's name was called. He turned around to see Mara standing in the manor doorway, leaning against the frame. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry…" The second time was a bit louder, enough so for Ansen to hear.

"For what?"

It was caught in her throat, the words. Mara didn't know what to say next; getting an apology out was a miracle on her part. She inhaled and tried to think of how she should continue. "I'm sorry about Reli…"

"What…?"

"It's my fault that… what happened is because of me. She gave her life for mine. If it wasn't for her, I'd be dead."

She was trying to fight back tears. Ansen could see it in her eyes. When Mara saw Ansen getting ready to stop her, she cut him off. "I need to say this…" she uttered. "I just sat there, and watched it happen. I should've gotten up and done something, but I didn't. Everything just happened so fast and I… couldn't move."

Ansen wrapped Mara in his arms, squeezing her tight to his chest. Silently, tears rolled down Ansen's face as Mara sobbed into his shoulder. All of it melting away, all of the stress and pain she felt about Reli, all of the night's where she saw the woman's dying form in her dreams and nightmares. All of it just flowed out like a river.

"I don't blame you for what happened to my sister. I blame those damned assassins."

Mara continued to sob into his leather armor plate. "Really?"

"Reli was a Black-Heart. She wanted to die on the field of battle…" That was how all of the Black-Hearts wished to die, in battle, or in service of the clan. It was how things were... whether they liked it or not.

Talia watched from within the manor. She smiled at the exchange. "Remember when we were that young?"

Sindell shook his head. "I was stupid and inexperienced."

"Oh, come on. Don't pretend your youth wasn't the best time of your life."

"My stupidity and inexperience is what made it so much fun…"

"Agreed."

A moment of silence fell on them and Talia yawned. "Maybe now that we're back, I can get some real rest."

She turned to leave, but Sindell grabbed her by the arm with his calloused, scarred hand. "What happened in that inn, Talia?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Mara was dead. You know it, and I know it. But something happened, some kind of strange magic that brought her back from the edge. You didn't cast it."

Talia grinned. "You've always had a pair of keen eyes."

"And you've always had a devious mind."

"You're correct; I didn't cast the spell that brought her back, but my restoration spell kept her from death long enough for the magic to kick in. It's one of momma's … signature spells: a type of rune that safeguards the wearer. It activated when the poison ran through the runes range of operation."

"I've never heard of a spell like that."

"Because she invented it and only cast it once…"

"Magic goes both ways, you and I both know that. A spell _that_ powerful has consequences."

Talia was expressionless. "Indeed it does."

She walked off without saying another word.

* * *

_**Thirty Years Ago**_

* * *

"Again."

The Storm Atronach reappeared. Grace lay face down in the dirt, trying to get her tiny body to move. She placed her palms on the ground and pushed with all her might until she stood on her knees. The dark-haired Imperial child glanced back at her mother, standing just a few feet away. She then brought her eyes back to the Daedra.

The girl's right hand sparked and surged with electricity. The creature unleashed a streak of lightning at the child and she caught the blast in her palm. Grace could feel it snaking through her body and allowed it to pile up and overflow.

"Just a few more seconds…" her mother said.

"I can't hold it anymore, mommy," Grace whimpered.

"You're almost there."

Grace's mother finished the countdown inside her head and nodded to her daughter. Finally, the Atronach stopped the attack and Grace concentrated the magicka she'd collected. She then released it back toward the Daedra in the form of a ball of frost, flash-freezing the creature on contact.

The small girl was scooped up in her mother's arms and lifted into the air victoriously. "That's my girl. I knew you could do it."

"I'm tired…" the girl mumbled.

"I know. You did well, Gracie. I'm gonna' keep my promise, okay? We'll go to town and I'll buy you whatever you want."

Laydis tried not to let it show, but at that moment, she was ecstatic. She was so proud of her young daughter, the most gifted creature she'd ever come across when it came to the magical arts, Alteration being the most prevalent. She was so versed in this particular field that Grace could change the properties of other spells at will. It was an amazing feat to witness.

"Momma!"

The scream echoed in the field and Laydis' happiness vanished. She placed Grace back down and told her to go to her special place, a cave not too far from their little cottage. After the little girl was far enough away, Laydis began a slow walk back up toward her home. Her other daughter, Hope burst from the back door and ran toward her.

Laydis pushed Hope behind her as a pair of rather large, muscular and impressively armored Imperial men strode out the back.

"Laydis the Bleak. We wish to speak with you…"

"Tell me who you people are, or I'm going to cook you like a pair of pigs," Laydis said. The temperature in the air slowly began to rise; it crackled and sparked and the smell of burning clothing hung in the air.

"We are agents of his majesty, Emperor Titus Mede the second and we're here to reque-"

"He's in no position to make any request to me, sir."

Laydis noticed a small Dunmer boy standing in the doorway behind the Imperials, observing the exchange. Sadness filled his large eyes.

"You've an obligation to your empire, Laydis."

"I _had_ an obligation. I don't anymore."

"May we remind you that the only reason you're able to live way out here is because of his majesty's generosity in giving you this homestead."

"To keep me quite about anything I might've heard from him or the other advisors, no doubt."

The man she was debating with, obviously the more experienced of the duo, sighed. "You can hear us out, Laydis, or we can bring you before the White Gold Court, and bring you up on charges of witchcraft."

The Imperial woman relented, knowing that her children would have to go to an orphanage or foster home if anything happened to her. Laydis clenched her fist, dispersing the spell she'd been conjuring, and grit her teeth.

"What do you want?"

The agent turned to the Dunmer child that had been standing behind them this whole time. "This child is to be instructed in Destruction magic by you."

Laydis tilted her head to this side. "Who is he?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I think it does."

"Well, you're wrong."

Laydis gave in with a shrug. "Fine. Six months."

"Six years."

She laughed, clutching at her stomach. "No. I refuse."

"Six years. No negotiations," the man said, turning and walking away with his partner.

This is why Laydis hated this blasted country and its politics. She should've never gotten herself entangled in that mess of government, but the past was the past and you couldn't change it, no matter how much you wanted to. The boy was here now, and he was here for an extended stay, nothing she could do.

Hope watched the boy's movements from behind her mother, shielding herself with the woman's skirt. The elf's hair was red, his skin was the color of ash. He was thin, almost unhealthily so, and tall for a boy his age.

"Momma, who's he?"

Without looking at her, Laydis placed a hand on her daughter's head and said, "I don't know. Do me a favor and go get your little sister from her hiding spot."

After Hope trotted off, confused by this whole situation, Laydis approached the boy. "What's your name again?" she asked.

"Sindell."

"Your last name."

"Dren."

Laydis knew that name from her time as an advisor to Emperor Mede. Dren was a title that was synonymous with servant. It was an infamous name not long ago, back when the Dren's attempted to kill the Nerevarine many years ago in Morrowind. They went from Netch farmers to the most shamed family in the province. Since then, as a punishment, Lord Vivec assigned the Dren's to servitude beneath the Emperor for all of eternity.

The Imperial woman knelt before the child. "Why were you sent here?"

"I was told … that I am to be an agent of the… P-Pineras Ocules."

"The Penitus Oculatus. They begin grooming from such an early age?" The woman sighed. "Well, it looks like you're here to stay… Come on, let's get some food in you."

* * *

_**Present Day**_

* * *

Yet another arrows bulls-eyed the target before the archer and he reached for his quiver again. Ansen was up before anyone, putting the bow he had forged by Lilly just a few days ago through its paces. Things were beginning to get back to normal around the manor, meaning jobs were being taken on again.

The front door to the manor swung open. Felsi and Victor stepped out, both sporting light armor and weaponry. Felsi appeared to be in an especially bad mood.

"Where are you two going?" Ansen asked.

"We're going to look for that Orc-thief," Felsi growled. "He's not going to get away with fucking the Sparrows."

Under any normal circumstances, Ansen would attempt to join them, but the Dark Brotherhood was active again and Mara needed to be protected. He allowed the two veterans to go on their way and turned his attention back to the target before him. He strung an arrow and aimed downrange. Before he could release it, a crossbow bolt struck the center of the target.

Ansen turned to see Berta sitting on the railing of the second floor balcony of the manor, Adja in hand, looking down on him. The teen grinned, feeling a little cocky. She leapt from the balcony and landed in a stack of hay near the stables with a soft thump. Ansen strode over and extended his hand to the girl.

She waved it away and said, "That witch lady wants to see you."

"Talia? What for?"

Berta shrugged loosely.

Ansen turned to the manor with a groan and started walking.

Talia was pacing like a mad woman. Sindell just watched her go back and forth, shaking his head. "Why would you tell Berta to fetch him? Now he's going to come in here wondering what I want from him and I won't have anything to say…"

"You know its past time you told him, Talia."

"Why can't you and Warren get it through your thick skulls that this is my decision? I'm waiting-"

"You're stalling. Putting it off over and over again. You've had weeks to tell him, but you keep making up excuses."

"Dammit, elf! This isn't your child we're talking about, it's mine. You have no right!"

"You kept saying how you've wanted to tell him for the longest time. I just gave you the opportunity."

"The opportunity to what, tell him that his absent mother has been casually pretending she was just another random person in his life? Do you realize how long I've been lying to him about who I was? He asked me just a few days ago how I knew Warren… I told him that I was an old client of his and that we went way back. I even went as far as to say that I knew the boy's mother."

Sindell furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"I was scared, alright? He … he doesn't even need a mother anymore. He's an adult now."

Sindell sighed. She'd been putting telling Ansen about her true identity off for too long, but even so she was still stalling. The elf had no children, and frankly didn't want any, so he had no experience as a parent. But even he knew that this was wrong…

Ansen strode into the room, yawning as he stretched his back, and asked, "You wanted to see me?"

The two spell caster's eyes met for a brief moment as they looked in each other's direction. Sindell raised an eyebrow challengingly, but Talia didn't pay him any mind. "Mara and I are going on a trip to Ivarstead. I was wondering if you wanted to tag along as well."

Sindell laughed, throwing his head back and stomped his foot. "Yes, boy. Would you like to accompany us?"

Ansen shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

Dren took a deep breath when his laughing fit subsided and said, "Well, go get your gear. We live as soon as you're ready."

"Alright…" Ansen ignored the strange feeling in the air and went to retrieve the rest of his equipment.

Once he was out of earshot, Sindell stood as well. "Y'know, you're right, Talia. I shouldn't involve myself in your affairs. My apologies." He stopped halfway out of the room and turned back around. "Just make sure you don't miss your opportunity to tell him."

* * *

Ivarstead was a small settlement compared to Solitude and Whiterun, a secluded little place where most of the residents were happy and content. It was also the home of an old friend, one who Mara needed to meet if Talia was going to efficiently teach her the ins and outs of spellcasting. Because the place was so small and close-knit, four strangers riding in was definitely a sight.

Sindell and Ansen seemed to draw the most attention, Ansen atop his mare and Sindell his paint horse. The two were heavily armed and quite intimidating at first and second glance. Ansen stared back at the farmers and children that couldn't seem to tear their gaze away from him while the elf just ignored their curious eyes.

"Why are they looking at us like that?" Mara asked, her hands tightly secured to Sindell's waist.

"Their not staring at 'us'," Talia informed the girl. "Their staring at the two gentlemen escorting us. Mercenaries aren't common in this area."

"Oh. So, who's this friend of yours that I need to meet?"

"Her name's Renn. She's a spellcaster, like me, but she's a lot more experienced. She actually had a hand in teaching me how to cast spells effectively."

They came upon a small farmstead sitting peacefully at the edge of the settlement. A small elven woman, wearing a messy head of grey hair and worn dress, stood in the fields before the building, tending her crops. She looked up at the three horses that trotted her way and dug her iron rake into the dirt.

"Can I help you travelers?"

"Come on, auntie Renn. You don't recognize me? It hasn't been that long."

The Altmer wiped the sweat from her brow and squinted. When she finally realized just who she was looking at, she opened her arms wide and smiled, "Hope? It's been years!"

Talia dismounted from her horse, and embraced the High Elf in a tight hug. "Oh, gods, auntie. It's so good to see you. How've you been?"

"I'm alive, so that's something… What brings my favorite student way out to this quite little part of Skyrim?"

"I've got a student of my own that I want you to meet." Talia turned to the others and said, "Auntie Renn, this is Mara Cane, my first protégé."

Renn extended her hand to Mara. "A pleasure to meet you, young lady."

Mara shook her hand and smiled politely.

"Why don't you all come on inside, and get comfortable? We can sit down and have some tea."

Renn turned back to Talia as the Sparrows dismounted from their steeds and tied their reins down. She leaned close to the Imperial and asked, "This is the girl? The one your mother told me about?"

Talia nodded with subtlety. "That's her…"

Renn inconspicuously looked back at Mara, watching the girl's movements carefully. She never imagined that she could actually be real; she just thought that it was just another one of Laydis' simple theories about the magical plains. But it wasn't just a theory. This woman actually existed.

The daughter of the Daedric Prince of order…

She was half-mortal, half-Deadra, something that had yet to occur in recorded history. Mara definitely held the appearance of an Imperial, and she probably didn't even know about her heritage, but Renn could tell just by looking into her eyes that she was a little different than your average girl.

The group was welcomed into Renn's home, which was quite different from its outer appearance. Inside old staves hung from the walls, potions sat on shelves, covered in layers of dust, weapons and armors lay around, so old that Sindell didn't even recognize their symbolism. The Altmer retrieved some cold tea and bread from her kitchen and brought them to the main room where the others waited.

"So, you two are Sparrow men, eh?" she asked, pursing her lips and nodding in appreciation. "If I recall correctly, your organization is a pretty famous one."

"Infamous depending on who you ask," Sindell said, declining when offered tea.

Mara accepted and sipped the cold liquid. "How long have you been practicing magic?"

"Longer than my memory stretches. Let's just say I was teaching before Hope was born."

Sindell thought back and said, "Y'know I haven't heard her called by that name in a very long time."

"Oh, my apologies. What are you called now?" Renn asked Talia.

"Well, when you're accused of witchcraft in Vvardenfell, you have to change your name. I go by Talia now."

"A pretty name… Okay, back to business! What do you need from me to help with your new student?"

Talia cocked her head to the side and grinned. "Do you still have my old gauntlet?"

"Of course I do! I'd never get rid of it!" Renn wandered to the other side of the room, where the stood a locked chest. A bound key was summoned to her hand and she opened the steel locker. She rummaged through its contents for a few moments, mumbling to herself. She then produced a small gauntlet, one that appeared to be made from ebony ore, but forged in a way that neither Sindell nor Ansen had seen before.

Renn tossed the armor to the youngest Sparrow. He hefted it in his hand, feeling how surprisingly light it was and questioned if it was actually ebony ore as he thought. "It's ebony alright," Talia confirmed. "It carries a special enchantment that puts a constant strain on the wearer's magicka."

"Ah, I get it. It assists in magicka control and stability," Sindell said.

"Right. Both me and my sister had to wear one, and it made us better mages."

Ansen handed it to Mara and the girl asked, "Will it hurt?"

"At first, yes. A lot actually… But if a pair of prepubescent girls can get used to it, then I'm sure you can."

Mara's expression was the definition of regret. She should've just asked someone from the college to teach her…

"Don't worry, we can try the gauntlet first thing in the morning," Talia said, patting Mara's shoulder. She looked to Renn and asked, "You mind putting us up for the night, auntie? We really prefer not to travel at night…"

"Of course not! You know you're always welcome in a home of mine. Why don't you help me set up the guest room?"

"Alright."

The two mages went to the second floor of the farmstead and down to the last room at the end of the hall. Inside was a small bed and a dresser. A window looked out onto the backyard where one could watch the cows graze.

"What're you doing, Hope? We both know that making that girl wear Blakon's Arm will cause a reaction with her Daedric blood. What that reaction will be, I have no idea..."

"Auntie, I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I'm just following the orders my mother left me."

_**{R/R}**_


	16. Finding Destruction

The rocky plains looked breathtaking from so high up. Ansen watched beneath the shining silver light of the moon from atop Renn's home, appreciating the gorgeous view put before him. His bow rested at his left, a quiver of arrows at his right. The few days that he and the others had spent in the small settlement had been peaceful, something none of them had gotten over the last while.

The Dark Brotherhood was on their heels again, but this time they were expected. The element of surprise that the assassins previously had was lessened. Sindell was on his guard at all times now, always watching and listening for something that sounded out of the ordinary. He even went as far as to sleep sitting up at the foot of Mara's bed, like a guard dog.

Ansen prayed the Breton woman that led the group would make another appearance. She got away before, after attacking Mara the way she did, but he was sure that if he could just get a hold of her again, she wouldn't escape. Every single time he bulls-eyed one of the targets outside of the Black-Heart manor, he pictured her face, wearing the same expression of pain as his sister. Ansen had recently been researching the Dark Brotherhood, learning as much as he could about his enemy.

Apparently, there was some infighting in the organization near two hundred years ago, which was the cause of the group dropping off of the map like it did. Over the last few decades, though, they were starting to resurface in Cyrodiil, remind the world of their presence. Not many committed the Black Sacrament, most believed the Brotherhood to be dead. But those who did perform the ritual, and could afford to pay the shadowy figures, had their desires fulfilled.

As Ansen watched the road, his mind still wandering, something strode by that caught his attention. It was a woman, walking by the farmstead alone. The first thing that he noticed was that she was gorgeous, a ghostly pale with short black hair. She kept her hooded fur garment cinched tight around her neck and chest, probably trying to keep the cold out. There was just something so very familiar about her, something that Ansen couldn't put his finger on…

He reached into his bag, and pulled the silver looking glass that he'd forgotten to return to Felsi from its depths. He looked through the scope down at the pale woman, trying to figure where he'd seen her face before. A pendant, round like a pearl but as black as the depths of the ocean, hung from her slender, white neck and Ansen realized it was the jewel that he recognized. The familiar amplifier had a dull, dead shine to it beneath the moonlight, one that once again made it look as though it wasn't from this world.

Upon closer inspection of the woman, he saw that she was carrying a bag from her shoulder. Sticking out of the satchel was the edge of what looked to be a book, one with a grey cover, its edges old and peeling.

"It couldn't be…"

Ansen was taking just a wild guess, but he trusted his gut enough to follow it, something his sister taught him…

He whistled and not long after, a young black horse strode up to the side of the house, almost blending in with the shadows. Ansen jumped from the roof, landing firmly onto the mount's saddle and patted its side. After his first steed was pummeled by those three ogres back in Cyrodiil and his second died from crown viper poison after being bitten in the Pale Pass, he began riding his sister's horse, Gant. She was more loyal than some dogs and was able to keep up with the fastest steeds in all of Skyrim.

Ansen whipped Gant's reigns and the horse took off, heading after the woman. Pulling his blade from its sheath and as he came upon her, he swung downward, slicing through the strap of her bag. The leather satchel plummeted to the dirt and its contents spilled out. Just as Ansen had guessed, the book that lay before him was the very same one that the Sparrows thought Gorakhal took.

The woman looked up at Ansen, her right hand behind her back, gripping the handle of the dagger at small of her back. Ansen dismounted, slid his sword back into its holster and picked the tome up. "I know a few people who've been looking for this little book," he said.

"Who are you?" the woman asked cautiously.

Ansen grinned at her. "I'm a Silver Sparrow. Who're you?"

The woman shrugged, glancing down at the book quickly, and said, "I'm just a traveler."

"Really? You don't look like a warrior, so you must be a mage. I mean, that's the only logical explanation for having a book of Daedric spells."

The woman bit her bottom lip.

Ansen snapped his fingers and proclaimed, "I do remember you!" His left hand fell to his blade as he came to realization. "You were the woman that was with Mara a few days ago. You were at the graveyard… I think she said your name was A'mber."

The vampire's mind raced. "What _else_ did she say about me?" she asked with a smile.

"Nothing other than the fact that you helped her out…"

She breathed an inaudible sigh of relief with the knowledge that her secret was safe. Now all she needed to do is get the book back.

"Mind if I ask where you got this little number?" he gestured to the tome.

"… I found it."

Ansen smiled at her. "I've learned in my life that a pretty face cannot just be trusted outright."

"Sometimes the damsel in distress is more dangerous than the malicious wizard that holds her in his tower, right?"

"You didn't find this, we both know that."

"Okay, maybe I stole it."

"Maybe?"

"Alright, I stole it," she shrugged.

"From an Orc?"

"Could've been an Orc, or a Khajiit, or could've been Talos himself."

"You'd steal from a god?"

"Why not? I've done worse."

Ansen's eyes were drawn to the woman's dark blue gaze. There was just something about those two beautiful cyan orbs that grabbed him. Against her pale skin, the fields of green/blue were like paintings on a flawless white canvas. Ansen was left speechless as she let her head tilt to the left.

Her hand fell from the dagger's handle and A'mber asked, "See something you like?"

The Imperial-Nord was unable to form words in his head.

"Why don't you hand me that nice little book?" she extended her hand and smiled warmly.

He did as she asked without hesitation, not even the slightest idea why he was obeying her command. She took the book with a triumphant chuckle, not once breaking her gaze, and slowly strode over to Gant. She mounted the powerful steed and started down the road once again.

"It was nice meeting you, Sparrow," she said as she went off.

Once the lock of eyes was finally broken, blood felt as though it was rushing into Ansen's skull and he dropped to his knees. The dizziness made him feel as though he tried to out-drink one of his aunts; it almost prevented him from standing. The sound of Gant's hooves galloping away was fading as she grew farther.

All he could do is put his fingers to his lips and whistle. Gant stopped in her tracks and bucked the small woman from her back, tossing her onto the dirt below. She landed with a thud and a low groan; glad she hadn't been tossed onto anything harder.

Ansen's sickness was beginning to dissipate and he grabbed the handle of his blade. His vision cleared, he sauntered over to where A'mber landed, drawing his blade from its sheath. She hurriedly rose, and scrambled away. The pale woman ran off the road and slid down a slight hill on the heels of her boots. Ansen didn't hesitate to follow her down the incline. The Breton turned her torso and unleashed a lighting spell at her pursuer.

The spell zoomed by his head, burning the tips of the long dark hair on the left side of his head. A'mber came to level ground and broke into a sprint. The Imperial-Nord's feet hit the ground as well and he snatched up a rock. He gripped it tightly between his index finger and thumb and slung it at her lower body. The stone hit the vampire in the back of the knee and she slowed as she tried to stow the feeling of pain in her right leg.

Ansen crashed into her, knocking both down another, steeper hill. They rolled down the grassy slope, locked in each other's arms until the duo finally hit the ground. They came to a stop with A'mber atop Ansen, sitting on his torso with the edge of his sword pressed to his neck. A droplet of blood beaded at his throat and the mercenary growled. A'mber could feel the point of her dagger at her side, lightly piercing her through her shirt.

"Give me the book," Ansen demanded in a low, calm tone.

"No," A'mber rebutted.

"Are you willing to die over this?"

"Are you?"

"Yes."

A'mber seemed to finally relent and removed the sword from Ansen's throat. She slowly removed herself from atop his body and stood straight up. "Fine then, take the book," she tossed her satchel to him as he rose as well.

Ansen was a little thrown off by her sudden surrender, but didn't think too much on it. "The others are going to want to know exactly who you are. You're going back to the farm with me," he stated.

"Fine."

Ansen started walking, and as he did, opened the satchel to make sure the book was actually inside. He made sure to keep his eyes on the woman walking in front of him, though; he still didn't trust her. The Breton's pace was slow and her walk had a slight limp to it. Ansen's brow furrowed.

"What's the matter?"

"I twisted my ankle during our tussle," she exclaimed. "I don't think I can walk," she continued, slowing her pace even further.

Ansen sighed, walked beside her and put her arm around his neck. "Come on."

He wasn't just going to let her go, injury or not. This was the second time that the Sparrows had run into this woman, and she had not only the Daedric tome, but also the amplifier on her person. Ansen wanted to know exactly what she was going to do with the two.

As they hobbled along the path back to the farmstead, Ansen felt a pair of lips grace the flesh of his neck, followed by a sharp pain. He quickly pushed the woman away and grabbed at the two small punctures that were now present on his skin. A'mber stood – her limp disappearing – and took the satchel from the mercenary's hands. He wasn't able to do a thing to stop her; his body wouldn't move.

Without a word the woman threw the satchel over her shoulder and walked off.

* * *

"She hurt you bad?" Sindell asked.

"No, though I doubt she wouldn't have if the opportunity presented itself."

Morning had come and after he wasn't found anywhere on the farm, Sindell went looking for the young man. Finding him on the road, the Dunmer brought him back to the house and sat him down in the living area just as the poison was beginning to wear off and Ansen was able to move again.

Talia bit her bottom lip in thought as the two spoke. She looked to Mara, standing behind Ansen, listening to his story. "Mara, did this woman give you any hints or clues about her identity?" Sindell asked.

"Not one. She just gave me her name…"

"And you had no idea she was a vampire?" Sindell inquired further.

Mara shook her head. Talia continued to watch the girl. The young Imperial was strangely quiet during the entire conversation, something the witch found quite odd.

"I didn't know vampire's fangs were poisonous," Ansen said.

Talia crossed her arms over her chest and chimed in for the first time. "Most aren't, but she's different. She must be a Vampire Lord from another province."

Sindell looked to her and asked, "Those are real?"

"Very. Most of their clans have been destroyed due to infighting and the pursuit of the Dawnguard. She might be the last of a dying breed…"

Sindell grunted and leaned back in his chair. "Well, we'll find her."

"If she's a vampire, then no, we won't. Chances are we won't find her around here again, we could get lucky and run into her, but the likelihood of that happening is low."

"So what do we do?" Ansen asked.

"Nothing. We get back to teaching this one," she motioned to Mara, "how to defend herself."

Ansen rubbed the cloth that covered his neck and asked, "How's that going, by the way?"

Sindell and Talia cringed slightly at the question. Mara sighed and ran her fingers through her long hair. "If you can't tell by the awkward feeling hanging in the air, Destruction magic is ungraspable for me."

"Don't get frustrated," Sindell said. "For a lot of spellcasters, certain fields of magic is more difficult to learn than others… when I first started I couldn't get alteration down. Each of the five schools are extremely different, yet similar in so many ways: Alteration, Illusion, Destruction, Restoration, and Conjuration."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't help me to understand Destruction."

Sindell stood and a deep red and orange flame appeared at the tip of his fingers. Mara's expression soured. "Ass," she remarked.

Sindell started toward the door and said, "Come on, let's go outside. I can show you a few things."

Mara and Talia followed him out into the field. Ansen continued to laze in his seat and stared up at the ceiling, thinking of the vampire that eluded him the previous night and then the assassin that he'd been obsessed with. Renn came downstairs and looked to him, lost in his own thoughts. "What's the matter with you, young man?" she asked.

"Women."

"Lady trouble, eh?"

"You could say that."

Mara faced the tree, staring into its bark like she was trying to look through it. She then looked over to Talia. "Exactly what am I supposed to be doing?"

"You can't cast Destruction magic because you don't have the mindset. Picture the tree burning in your mind, and it _will_ burn."

The Imperial held her hand up and focused on the tree. She tried her hardest, pictured fireplaces, wildfires, dragons spouting their fiery breath, but still no burning tree. She went at this for four whole minutes before overflowing with frustration. She walked right up to the tree and drove her fist in the bark. The pained groan that followed was accompanied with stomping and swearing.

Sindell laughed and told her, "Breaking your hand isn't going to help anything, Mara."

"'Concentrating' isn't helping either, dammit! Fuck, I need to clear my head…" she said, walking off.

The two veteran spellcasters allowed her to go, figuring blowing off some steam would help her. "What do you think the problem is?" the elf asked his human counterpart.

"She's got a mental block that needs to be broken down," Talia deduced. "What that revolves around, is what don't know."

Sindell mused. "Reli. She saw Reli die right in front of her."

Nodding, Talia cinched her coat closed as the wind picked up. "You might be right there, Dren. We need to figure out how to plow through this blockage, then."

"My dearest Talia, I already know how."

"Do tell, darling."

"We recreate the event that caused the block."

Talia grinned. "You deviously brilliant, Morrowind-accented bastard. That's sheer genius."

"Genius, no. Amazingly intelligent, perhaps."

* * *

She made sure to accentuate the lines of the hair, waves of ink flowing against the pages. The eyes were a disappointment in Mara's opinion – she didn't feel as though she captured their life and character. On the paper, the warrior's head was turned away from the viewer, looking off into the distance at whatever she'd heard. Another thing that Mara wasn't content with was the armor. They didn't accentuate the slight curves and musculature of the woman's body as well as she'd like.

This was probably the fourth or fifth sketch of Reli scribbled into the pages of Mara's book. This image in particular was burned into the young Imperial's vision. She recalled it from when she'd first met the Nordic mercenary, while being pursued by the Copper Company.

Mara was glad they didn't try and stop her from leaving. She just needed to be alone with her thoughts, a quill, and some paper. Those three were about the only things at this point that actually calmed Mara's nerves, kept her from losing it. Mara was so frustrated with the lessons, she felt like she was a fox being taught how to fly…

"There you are," she heard Talia say.

So much for being alone.

Mara looked back as the woman came upon her. "How'd you find me?"

"Well, you're not that hard to track, sweetheart. Are you alright?"

"More or less…"

Talia sat on the ground beside tree Mara leaned against, patted her on the knee and said, "These things take time."

"I'm sure they do."

The witch leaned over to look into Mara's sketchbook. She frowned at the image of Reli that was being drawn into the paper and then looked up to Mara. She'd reconciled with Ansen, said her piece, gotten all of the heavy thoughts off her heart, but still there were sadness in the girl's eyes; sadness that Talia had seen and lived before. Those feelings were still pent up in Mara, still in her chest like a sickness.

Sticks and twigs were crushed behind them and the duo turned. A man, a dark hood and mask hiding his identity and a sword in hand, stood just a few feet away, eyes fixated on Talia. On his sleeve was the insignia of the Noble Arae, a group that Talia was quite familiar with.

"Who's he?" Mara asked, closing her book.

Talia was up and on her feet in the blink of an eye, swirling magic in her hands. "He's a witch hunter."

"I've come for your head, Hope the Bleak," he said, resting his hand comfortably on his blade's pommel. He drew the weapon at his hip and spun it between his fingers elegantly. "There are ten thousand Septems restin' on that pretty noggin of yours– ten thousand I'm lookin' to claim."

"After all of this time, you all are still after me?"

"The longer you live, the higher the bounty rises."

As a preemptive strike, Talia slung an ice spike at the stranger. He ducked behind the trees. The witch tried to follow his movements to the best of her ability, casting fire and ice spells consecutively. She continued this until he was completely lost by her vision, somewhere in the brush. She stood at the ready, hands burning with magicka.

He reappeared in her periphery and she turned to meet him. A knife flew by her head, cutting along her check as it passed and landing in the dirt behind Talia. She spun on her heels as another knife was thrown her way and turned her magicka together in her hands, forming a ball of electricity. She stopped her twirl and released the ball into his chest the witch hunter grew closer, blowing him back ten feet.

Talia knew that the man was merely stunned by the electrical attack and she stood over him, her hand heating. She wrapped her fingers around his throat and brought her face to his, the tips of their noses touching. "Never come after me again..."

He g

rabbed a hold of her neck in return and spat, "Shut your mouth!"

Slowly but surely, Talia's grip weakened and her magicka waned. "Talia? Are you okay?" Mara approached slowly as the older woman whimpered.

"You like that? I'm wearing an enchanted charm that drains magicka when I come in contact with another person. Standard witch hunting equipment…"

He pushed her off and put his blade to her chest. "Find solace in Sovngarde, witch."

So many thoughts were racing through Mara's head. She'd seen this before, she knew she had to do something or Talia was going to die, but she couldn't move. She kept seeing Reli, her pained face, her blood pooling around her armored form. She felt helpless again, watching as death crept upon another one of her companions. Just then, as the witch hunter brought the sword high into the air, something snapped. That's when she got it.

A red flame engulfed the witch hunter, covering him head-to-toe like a sheet. Smoke rose from Mara's hand as her eyes glowed like the sun. She slowly walked toward the man, who just wasn't burning enough to sate her. She wanted to reduce him to ashes.

Quickly, Talia reacted, jumping up and grabbing the girl from behind. "Mara, stop! That's enough!"

Sindell appeared from out of nowhere and dropped down at the witch hunter's side.

"I'm gonna' kill him!" Mara hollered, struggling against Talis's surprisingly strong grip. "Let me go!"

"Calm down, Mara!" her new mentor told her.

Once Sindell tore the witch hunter's robes off, Mara saw that it was Ansen underneath. The Imperial-Nord's hands ran up and down his body, making sure he himself wasn't burning, panting in panic. He looked up to Mara, cracked a quick smile.

"Damn, Mara! Were you trying to burn the whole forest down?"

Mara seemed to calm slightly, and began to stutter, trying to figure out what was happening.

"We arranged this, sweetie. We needed to make you snap so you could grasp Destruction magic and you did. You did..."

Sindell helped Ansen up to his feet, laughing loudly as the witch hunter clothing burned. "You almost didn't make it out of that alive, boy."

"Alright, I'm not doing either of you favors any more," Ansen breathed, smiling slightly.

Talia held Mara close as tears ran down her face. These weren't of sadness, not like the ones from before. These were of happiness. She hadn't been genuinely happy in a long while, longer than she'd like to remember. Mara was in a foreign land, away from any family and friends she knew, running from people that wanted her dead and she was happy…


End file.
